TH€ 

UNIY6RS1TY  Of  CALIFORNIA 
LIBRARY 


Nsf 


SHAKE  SPEAKE, 

FEOM  AN  AMERICAN  POINT  OF  VIEW; 


.  INCLUDING 


AN  INQUIRY  AS   TO   HIS   RELIGIOUS   FAITH, 
AND   HIS    KNOWLEDGE   OF   LAW: 


WITH 


THE  BACONIAN  THEORY  CONSIDERED. 


BY 

GEORGE  WILKES. 


NEW  YORK: 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY, 

549  AND  551  BROADWAY. 

1877. 


ENTEBED,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1877, 

BY  D.  APPLETON  &  CO., 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


PREFACE. 

THE  following  Essays  were  originally  addressed  to  a  public 
consisting  for  the  most  part  of  American  readers :  and  it  was 
the  intention  of  the  author  to  publish  them  first,  in  a  collected 
form,  in  the  United  States.  It,  however,  having  become  apparent, 
in  the  course  of  his  researches,  that  it  would  be  advisable  to 
consult  the  British  libraries,  he  concluded  to  issue  the  work  in 
London.  This  was  the  more  desirable,  because  a  judgment 
rendered  from  the  fountain  head  of  English  criticism,  on  what 
may  be  deemed  a  conspicuously  English  subject,  would  be  more 
authoritative  and  satisfactory  than  if  given  from  any  other 
source.  The  author,  therefore,  takes  this  opportunity  to  say 
that  the  most  rigorous  criticism  will  not  be  unwelcome ;  not, 
indeed,  from  any  vain  confidence  in  his  own  views,  but  because 
they  are  put  forward  in  good  faith,  and  in  order  to  elicit  truth 
concerning  a  genius  who  is  the  richest  inheritance  of  the  intel- 
lectual world.  Should,  indeed,  his  views  be  <  controverted,  the 
author  must  even  in  that  event  be  a  gainer  in  common  with  the 
other  admirers  of  Shakespeare ;  for  it  can  never  be  a  true  source 
of  mortification  to  relinquish  opinions  in  favour  of  those  which 
are  shown  to  be  better. 

Presenting  these  pages,  therefore,  rather  as  a  series  of  inquiries 
than  as  dogmatic  doctrine,  the  author  strives  to  support  them  by 
only  such  an  amount  of  controversy  as  is  legitimately  due  from 
one  who  invites  the  public  to  a  new  discussion. 

G.  W. 


395700 


CONTENTS. 


GENERAL  CIRCUMSTANCES, 

HISTORICAL   AND    BIOGRAPHICAL. 

CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

THE  RESPONSIBILITIES  OF  GENIUS .1 

CHAPTEE  II. 
SHAKESPEARE'S  EAELY  LIFE  .        .        .        .        .        .6 


CHAPTER  III. 
LORD  BACON 13 

CHAPTER  IV. 
WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE 18 

CHAPTER  V. 
SHAKESPEARE'S  PERSONAL  CHARACTERISTICS 28 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  RELIGION  OF  THE  SHAKESPEARE  FAMILY 34 

CHAPTEE  VII. 
EVENING  MASS  .  ,    46 


vi  Contents. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAGE 

SHAKESPEABE'S  CONTEMPT  FOE  PEOTESTANTS 62 

CHAPTER  IX. 
LEGAL  ACQUIBEMENTS  OF  SHAKESPEAEE 71 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  THE  PLAYS. 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE  TEMPEST  "          ..........    81 

Two  GENTLEMEN  OF  VEEONA  "          .......    84 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  MEEET  WIVES  OF  WINDSOE  "    .......    93 

MEASUEE  FOE  MEASUEE  "  .........    95 


CHAPTER  XII. 
"  COMEDY  OF  EEEOES  "        .        .        .      .  ......  106 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
"  THE  MEECHANT  OF  VENICE  "    ........  114 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
"  THE  MEECHANT  OF  VENICE  "  (CONTINUED)       .....  126 

CHAPTER  XV. 

"  MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING  "    ........  136 

"  As  You  LIKE  IT  "...  .  139 


Contents.  vii 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

PAGE 

"  THE  TAMING  OF  THE  SHEEW  " 145 

"  LOVE'S  LABOUE'S  LOST  " 147 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
"  ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL  " 151 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

"  TWELFTH  NIGHT  ;  OE,  WHAT  You  WILL  " 160 

"  THE  WINTEE'S  TALE  " 164 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  HISTOEICAL  PLAYS *  171 

"KING  JOHN"     .        . .177 

CHAPTER  XX. 

"RlCHABDlI." 182 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

"  HENEY  IV."— PAET  I__--T      ^— -~-H*£ 

"  HENEY  IV."— PAET  II 199 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
"  HENEY  V." 207 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
"  KING  HENEY  VI."— PAET  1 220 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"  KING  HENEY  VI."— PAET  II 227 

THE  REBELLION  OF  WAT  TYLEE 228 

THE  REBELLION  OF  CADE 232 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
"  KING  HENEY  VI."— PAET  II.— REBELLION  OF  CADE  (CONTINUED)    .  240 


viii  Contents. 

• 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

PAGE 

"  KING  HENEYYI."— PAST  III 255 

"RlCHAEDlII." 260 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
"  KING  HENEY  VIII." 267 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
THE  TBAGEDIES. — "  TEOILUS  AND  CEESSIDA  " 278 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
"  TIMON  OF  ATHENS  " 288 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

"COBIOLANUS" 292 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

•*  TITUS  ANDBONICUS  " 313 

"  PEEICLES,  PEINCE  OF  TYEE  "    .        . 322 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

"MACBETH" 327 

"CYMBELINE" 331 

"  ROMEO  AND  JULIET  " 338 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

"  JULIUS  CJESAB" 345 

"  ANTONY  AND  CLEOPATEA  " 359 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
"  OTHELLO  " 363 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 
"KING  LEAK"  .377 


Contents.  ix 

. 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

PAGE 

HAMLET  " .  .  397 


THE  MUSICAL  OR  EUPHONIC  TEST. 

SHAKESPEARE   AND   BACON*S   EESPECTIVE   SENSE   OF   MELODY,    OE 
EAR   FOE   MUSIC. 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 
THE  EUPHONIC  TEST 423 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 
THE  EUPHONIC  TEST  (CONTINUED) 437 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 
RECAPITULATION  AND  CONCLUSION  465 


POSTSCRIPT  ....  .       .        •        •          462 


$art  5. 
G-ENEBAL   CIBCUMSTANCES, 

HISTORICAL  AND  BIOGRAPHICAL. 


SHAKE  SPEARE, 

FEOM  AN  AMERICAN  POINT  OF  VIEW. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   RESPONSIBILITIES   OP   GENIUS. 

THE  question  as  to  the  authorship  of  what  are  known  to  the 
world  as  Shakespeare's  plays,  first  raised  in  1856,  and  projected 
in  favour  of  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  did  not  attract  much  attention 
until  some  time  after  it  was  propounded.  Indeed,  I  had  not 
heard  that  the  Shakespearian  authorship  of  these  plays  ever  had 
been  doubted  until  the  year  1867,  when  in  the  course  of  a  con- 
versation with  General  B.  F.  Butler,  he  asked  me  whether  I  had 
read  "The  Philosophy  of  Shakespeare's  Plays  Unfolded,"  by 
Delia  Bacon — remarking,  at  the  same  time,  he  thought  her 
arguments  to  be  of  great  force,  and  that  he  favourably  regarded 
the  Baconian  theory. 

The  judgment  of  so  keen  a  critic  for  a  moment  staggered  me, 
but  the  proposition  was  so  utterly  at  variance  with  the  settled 
convictions  of  my  mind,  that  the  influence  of  his  opinion  soon 
yielded  to  my  prepossessions,  and  I  readily  attributed  the 
General's  Baconian  inclination  to  a  professional  predilection  in 
favour  of  one  of  his  own  craft.  The  question,  therefore,  when  it 
was  afterward  raised  by  others,  failed  to  engage  my  serious 
attention,  until  it  was  again  broached  to  me,  in  Bacon's  favour, 
by  an  American  cavalry  officer,  during  an  afternoon  lounge  near 
Richmond,  on  the  Thames,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  summer  of 
1874.  Just  about  that  time,  there  had  appeared  in  the  August 


un  American  Point  of  View. 

number  of  Fraser's  Magazine  an  exceedingly  ingenious  article, 
written  by  a  young  American,  under  the  title  of  "  Who  wrote 
Shakespeare  ? "  and  singularly  enough  my  West  Point  friend 
and  I  accidentally  met  the  author  of  this  very  article  three  nights 
afterwards,  at  a  dinner  party  in  London,  which  included  a  number 
of  English  and  American  literary  men. 

On  the  following  morning,  I  sought,  at  the  bookstands,  the 
magazine  alluded  to,  but  the  edition  having  been  exhausted,  I  wwas 
obliged  to  have  recourse  to  the  politeness  of  the  author,  who 
kindly  furnished  me  with  one  of  six  supplementary  proofs  he  had 
procured  to  be  stricken  off  for  his  own  use,  before  the  forms 
had  been  distributed. 

Soon  afterward,  stimulated  doubtless  by  this  publication,  the 
controversy  as  to  the  authorship  of  the  Shakespeare  plays  spread 
to  the  United  States,  and,  under  the  manipulation  of  the  Ameri- 
can Press,  elicited  a  flood  of  multifarious  opinion.  Amid  this 
ocean  of  expression,  the  article  in  "Eraser  was  by  far  the  most 
notable  for  plausibility  and  force ;  but  what  surprised  me  most 
in  running  through  the  views  of  all  these  writers  was,  that  not 
one  of  them  touched  a  fact  which  had  long  puzzled  me  concerning 
Shakespeare,  and  which  had  led  me,  several  years  before,  to  read 
his  plays  with  laborious  scrutiny,  under  the  idea  of  writing  an 
essay  upon  his  character  and  principles,  from  an  American  point 
of  view.  Though  not  a  blind  worshipper  of  Shakespeare,  I  had 
always  been  among  the  warmest  admirers  of  his  genius,  but  I 
never  had  been  able  to  comprehend  why  it  was,  that,  unlike  all 
the  great  geniuses  of  the  world  who  had  come  before  or  after 
him,  and  who  seem,  as  such,  to  have  been  deputized  with  the 
creative  faculty  of  God,  he  should  be  the  only  one  so  deficient  in 
that  beneficent  tenderness  toward  his  race,  so  vacant  of  those 
sympathies  which  usually  accompany  intellectual  power,  as  never 
to  have  been  betrayed  into  one  generous  aspiration  in  favour  of 
popular  liberty.  Nay,  worse  than  this,  worse  than  his  servility 
to  royalty  and  rank,  we  never  find  him  speaking  of  the  poor  with 
respect,  or  alluding  to  the  working  classes  without  detestation 
or  contempt.  We  can  understand  these  tendencies  as  existing  in 
Lord  Bacon,  born  as  he  was  to  privilege,  and  holding  office  from 
a  queen;  but  they  seem  utterly  at  variance  with  the  natural 
instincts  of  a  man  who  had  sprung  from  the  body  of  the  people, 
and  who,  through  the  very  pursuits  of  his  father,  and  likewise 


The  Responsibilities  of  Genius.  3 

from  his  own  beginning,  may  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  working 
classes  himself. 

Bacon,  through  his  aristocratic  training,  and  influenced  by  the 
monarchical  system  under  which  he  served,  may  barely  be  for- 
given, by  even  his  most  extreme  defenders,  for  his  barrenness  of 
that  beneficence,  which  genius  is  delegated,  as  it  were,  to  bring 
to  us  from  Heaven ;  but  the  son  of  plain  John  Shakespeare  has 
no  such  excuse.  Dickens,  who  wrote  mainly  for  the  lowly; 
Byron,  who,  though  a  noble,  fought  for  human  liberty ;  Cervantes, 
Junius,  Eugene  Sue,  Le  Sage,  De  Foe,  Walter  Scott,  Victor 
Hugo,  Oliver  Goldsmith,  and  Sheherezade — the  never-to-be- 
forgotten  Sheherezade,  who  talked  to  a  Prince  for  a  thousand  and 
one  nights  in  such  sentiments  as  have  made  the  literature  of 
Arabia  a  hymn — never  forgot  the  hopes  and  joys  and  distresses 
of  the  poor.  Shakespeare  alone  of  these  elevated  souls  prefers 
to  be  the  parasite  of  the  rich  and  noble,  and  seldom,  if  ever, 
permits  the  humble  to  escape  him  without  a  derisive  jest  or 
sneer. 

William  Shakespeare  nevertheless  possessed  a  larger  share  of 
the  divine  creative  faculty  than  any  other  mortal ;  and  let  it  not 
be  said  that  too  much  is  claimed  for  this  poetic  attribute.  If  the 
characters  produced  by  mortal  imaginations  have  not  souls  for 
divine  judgment,  they  certainly  have  forms  and  shapes  for  human 
comprehension  and  for  penal  criticism.  They  are  as  much  of 
the  world  as  the  world  is  of  us.  Othello,  Manfred,  Aladdin, 
Quasimodo,  Meur  de  Marie,  Gil  Bias,  Robinson  Crusoe,  Ras- 
selas,  Micawber,  Don  Quixote,  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield,  and 
Ivanhoe,  are  as  actual  to  our  appreciations  as  the  real  Mahomet, 
Csesar,  Zenghis  Khan,  Napoleon,  or  Martin  Luther ;  as  real,  in 
fact,  as  are  Vesuvius  and  JEtna  to  those  who  have  never  seen 
them.  And  the  manner,  consequently,  in  which  these  fictitious 
characters  are  developed  to  the  reader,  imposes  as  great  respon- 
sibilities upon  their  authors,  in  the  way  of  morals,  as  do  the  just 
presentation  of  the  truths  of  history. 

The  singular  oversight  of  so  salient  a  point  as  Shakespeare's 
aristocratic  tendencies,  by  the  Baconians,  may  perfraps  be 
accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  their  theory  is  still  quite  new,  the 
ground  having  first  been  broken  by  Delia  Bacon,  of  Boston,  as 
late  as  1856,  and  only  languidly  followed  since  by  a  few  Ameri- 
can lawyers  and  aristocratic  Englishmen,  severally  stimulated  by 


4      Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

pride  of  profession,  or  conceit  of  caste.  To  the  masses  of  the 
English  people  it  is  really  a  matter  of  no  great  importance 
whether  one  Englishman  or  another  was  the  author  of  the 
Shakespearian  dramas ;  for  the  dust  of  two  centuries  has  fallen 
so  evenly  on  both  of  those  who  are  now  under  our  consideration, 
that  all  minor  preferences  are  levelled  out.  With  Americans, 
however,  the  question  is  somewhat  different. 

The  pamphlet  of  the  American  lady,  who  had  been  inspired 
to  the  Baconian  theory  doubtless  by  a  mere  pride  of  name, 
began  to  attract  favourable  attention  from  the  English  aristocracy 
in  1858,  and  some  of  its  leaders  brought  themselves  to  the 
opinion,  that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  the  prestige  of  their 
order  if  the  world  could  be  made  to  believe  that  the  great  writer, 
who  had  dwarfed  them  all  for  over  two  hundred  years,  was  a 
scion  of  their  caste.  It  has  always  been  the  tendency  of  patrician 
politics,  when  the  merit  of  the  lowly-born  cannot  be  underrated, 
to  mask  its  origin  by  artfully  recruiting  it  into  its  own  ranks,  so 
that  talented  poverty  may  file  thereafter  down  the  aisles  of  the 
future  under  the  aspect  of  a  lord.  This  policy  has  been  so  con- 
spicuous during  the  last  hundred  years,  that  there  can  hardly  be 
a  doubt  that  had  the  author  of  Othello  lived  a  few  generations 
later  he  would  have  figured  upon  the  title-page  of  his  immortal 
works  as  Lord  Shakespeare,  or  Sir  William  at  the  least.  The 
British  nobility  would  have  thus  been  spared  the  desire  of 
adopting  the  American  woman's  theory  in  transferring  the  glory 
of  William  Shakespeare  to  Sir  Francis  Bacon. 

Conspicuous  among  the  noblemen  who  favoured  the  Baconian 
theory  in  England  was  (as  we  are  informed  by  the  article  in 
Fraser)  "  Lord  Palmerston,  who  maintained  that  the  plays  of 
Shakespeare  were  written  by  Lord  Verulam  (Sir  Francis  Bacon), 
who  had  passed  them  off  under  the  name  of  an  actor  for  fear  of 
compromising  his  professional  prospects  and  philosophic  gravity." 
On  being  opposed  in  this  declaration  (says  the  author  of  the 
article  in  Fraser)  by  the  positive  testimony  of  Ben  Jonson  as 
to  Shakespeare's  authorship,  Palmerston  replied,  t(  Oh,  those 
fellows  always  stand  up  for  one  another,  or  perhaps  Jonson" 
(added  his  Lordship)  "  may  have  been  deceived  like  the  rest." 

Here  was  the  weighty  authority  of  two  prominent  statesmen 
and  lawyers,  Palmerston  and  Butler,  relatively  of  England  and 
America,  fencing  the  very  threshold  of  my  inquiry;  and  it 


The  Responsibilities  of  Genius.  5 

consequently  behoved  me  to  advance  with  wary  footsteps  into 
the  shades  of  the  enigma,  and  prove,  at  the  very  outset,  if  I 
desired  to  controvert  them,  that  the  author  of  the  Shakespeare 
plays  could  not  have  been  (like  Bacon)  either  a  statesman  or  a 
lawyer — a  proof  that  must,  of  necessity,  be  sought  from  internal 
evidence  furnished  by  the  plays  themselves,  since  all  contem- 
porary testimony  had  left  these  points  unsettled.  The  only 
means  remaining,  therefore,  after  the  lapse  of  two  hundred 
years,  was  to  question  the  souls  of  the  departed  Titans,  as 
they  still  live  and  breathe,  within  their  respective  imperishable 
pages. 


6      Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


CHAPTER  II. 

SHAKESPEARE'S  EARLY  LIFE. 

ONE  of  the  objects  of  this  inquiry  will  be  an  attempt  to  establish 
the  degree  of  difference,  if  any,  in  which  the  Shakespearian 
volume  should  be  regarded,  relatively,  in  England  and  America, 
as  a  family  text-book;  and  whether,  as  a  household  teacher,  it 
should,  among  Americans,  as  with  Englishmen,  divide  domestic 
reverence  and  authority  almost  with  the  Bible.  And  this 
inquiry  will  logically  extend  itself  so  as  to  comprehend  the  social 
and  religious,  as  well  as  the  political  inculcations  of  the  Shake- 
spearian volume. 

And  following  the  inquiry  still  further,  we  shall  endeavour  to 
ascertain  what  difference,  if  any,  in  ff  musical  ear/''  or  sense  of 
music,  is  exhibited  relatively  in  the  Plays  and  Essays;  so  as  to 
enable  us  to  determine,  with  almost  absolute  certainty,  whether 
one  and  the  same  man  could  have  been  the  author  of  both.  In 
this  latter  branch  of  my  inquiry  I  shall  be  obliged  to  depend 
largely  upon  the  mjisical  experts. 

Dealing  with  almost  any  other  poet  than  the  author  of  Shake- 
speare's Plays,  it  would  be  a  matter  of  comparative  indifference 
what  his  ideas  were  as  to  the  separation  of  the  classes,  or  upon 
the  science  of  government;  but  if  we  are  to  install  a  monitor 
within  our  homes  as  a  domestic  god,  or  adopt  a  writer  as  a 
political  instructor,  it  is  of  some  importance  that  we  should 
know  how  much  credit  to  concede  to  such  an  author's  conscience 
and  principles.  It  will  readily  be  seen,  therefore,  that  Shake- 
speare is  a  character  of  much  more  consequence  to  Englishmen, 
and  especially  to  the  ruling  classes  of  Great  Britain,  than  he  can 
ever  be  to  the  republican  citizens  of  the  United  States.  With 
us,  he  is  but  the  poet,  mighty  beyond  all  comparison;  but  to 


Shakespeare  s  Early  Life.  7 

the  ruling  classes  of  Great  Britain  he  is  not  only  the  Poet,  but 
the  Patron  of  their  order,  and  also  thejtireless  inculcator  of  those 

marvel 


_of  Jh&jimlizficLworld,  nnjer_ih.e,jilmost  purely  personal  form  of 
^ngHsJbj^atriotism.  The  author  of  the  Shakespeare  plays  has 
been,  in  this  way,  the  unseen  source,  the  incessant  fountain,  the 
constant  domineering  influence,  which  has  done  more  to  continue 
the  worship  of  the  English  people  for  royalty  and  rank,  than  all 
other  agencies  combined.  Well  may  the  nobility  of  England  be 
jealous  of  his  pre-eminence,  and  defend  him  as  the  greatest 
genius  ever  given  to  the  world.  They  have  an  interest  in  his 
popular  supremacy,  which  they  cannot  afford  to  surrender,  and 
he  has  been  worth  to  them,  during  the  last  two  hundred  years, 
millions  of  men  and  billions  upon  billions  of  money.  He  deserves 
at  their  hands  a  monument  more  lofty  than  the  Pyramids  ;  while  it 
is  very  questionable,  on  the  other  hand,  if  the  "Rnglir.li  mnf-nnH  QWA 
him  anything  beyond  their  .involuntary  admiratioji-J»f4us...DjinjL- 
It  suggests  itself  to  me  at  this  point,  therefore,  that  it  would 
perhaps  be  a  better  policy  for  the  British  aristocracy,  to  leave 
this  mighty  Voice  to  continue  to  speak  from  among  The  People, 
rather  than  as  one  of  the  aristocratic  masters  of  The  People. 

But  we  must  not  be  beaten  back  by  the  awe  of  generations. 
We  must  demand  boldly  who  and  what  this  mighty  genius  was, 
—what  were  his  principles,  his  character,  his  faith,  his  motive  in 
writing  as  he  did,  and  what  manner  of  man  he  was  in  his  familiar 
way  of  life.  And  all  this  is  necessary  in  order,  first,  to  decide 
the  question  as  between  Shakespeare  and  Bacon,  and  then  to 
assign  to  the  actual  writer  of  the  Shakespeare  plays  the  position, 
as  a  poet,  moralist,  and  public  teacher,  to  which  he  may  be 
entitled  among  the  English-speaking  race  of  both  sides  of  the 
Atlantic. 

The  first  objection  to  the  authorship  of  William  Shakespeare, 
which  the  Baconians  raise,  is  that  no  man  of  such  humble  origin, 
deficient  scholarship,  and  loose,  easy-going  way  of  life  as  Shake- 
speare, could  have  been  possessed  of  such  profound  knowledge  as 
he  exhibited,  and  be  capable  of  such  transcendant  imagery  as 
these  plays  develope,  nay,  that  no  common  play-writer  could 
have  possessed  such  a  familiarity  with  court  etiquette  and  with 
the  language  of  nobles,  and  of  kings  and  queens,  as  he.  But  the 
force  of  these  objections  is  seriously  damaged  by  the  fact  that 


8      Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

none  of  the  disciples  of  the  Baconian  theory  who  have  sprung-  up 
since  1856,  ever  had  the  advantage  of  studying  the  manners  or 
the  "set  phrase  of  courts/'  themselves.  And  here  I  may  be 
allowed  to  add  that  it  may  be  considered  certain  that  the 
writer  of  the  Shakespeare  plays  himself  spoke  much  better 
English  than  any  prince  or  noble  of  Elizabeth's  court. 

As  to  the  character  and  morals  of  William  Shakespeare,  he 
certainly  suffers  nothing  from  a  comparison  with  Sir  Francis 
Bacon.  Shakespeare  commenced  life  as  a  deer-stealer  and  a 
drunkard/  had  a  child  born  to  him  in  less  than  six  months  after 

1  This  latter  seems  to  be  a  harsh  declaration,  but  I  find  my  authority 
for  it  in  pages  8  and  9  of  the  Memoir  of  Shakespeare  by  the  Rev.  William 
Harkness,  M.A.,  in  Cooledge  and  Brother's  New  York  edition  of  Scott, 
Webster,  and  Geary's  London  edition  of  the  Works  of  Shakespeare.  I  need 
not  say  to  Shakespearian  scholars  that  the  authority  of  Mr.  Harkness  is 
entitled  to  the  highest  respect. 

"The  gaiety  of  his  (Shakespeare's)  disposition,"  says  Mr.  Harkness, 
"  naturally  inclined  him  to  society ;  and  the  thoughtlessness  of  youth 
prevented  his  being  sufficiently  scrupulous  about  the  conduct  and  the 
character  of  his  associates.  '  He  had,  by  a  misfortune,  common  enough 
to  young  fellows,  fallen  into  ill  company,'  says  Howe ;  and  the  excesses 
into  which  they  seduced  him,  were  by  no  means  consistent  with  that 
seriousness  of  deportment  and  behaviour  which  is  expected  to  accom- 
pany the  occupation  that  he  had  adopted.  The  following  anecdote  of 
these  days  of  his  riot  is  still  current  at  Stratford,  and  the  neighbouring 
village  of  Bidford.  I  give  it  in  the  words  of  the  author  from  whom  it  is 
taken.  Speaking  of  Bidford,  he  says,  '  There  were  anciently  two  societies 
of  village  yeomanry  in  this  place,  who  frequently  met  under  the  appellation 
of  Bidford  topers.  It  was  a  custom  of  these  heroes  to  challenge  any  of  their 
neighbours,  famed  for  the  love  of  good  ale,  to  a  drunken  combat ;  among 
others,  the  people  of  Stratford  were  called  out  to  a  trial  of  strength,  and  in  the 
number  of  their  champions,  as  the  traditional  story  runs,  our  Shakespeare, 
who  foreswore  all  thin  potations,  and  addicted  himself  to  ale  as  lustily  as 
Falstaff  to  his  sack,  is  said  to  have  entered  the  lists.  In  confirmation  of  this 
tradition,  we  find  an  epigram  written  by  Sir  Aston  Cockany,  and  published  in 
his  poems  in  1858 ;  it  runs  thus : — 

"'TO  ME.  CLEMENT  FISHER,  OF  WINCOT. 

Shakespeare,  your  Wincot  ale  hath  much  renown'd, 
That  fox'd  a  beggar  so  (by  chance  was  found 
Sleeping)  that  there  needed  not  many  a  word 
To  make  him  to  believe  he  was  a  lord : 
But  you  affirm  (and  in  it  seem  most  eager), 
'Twill  make  a  lord  as  drunk  as  any  beggar. 


Shakespeare's  Early  Life.  9 

marriage/  and  lived  in  London  during-  all  his  theatrical  career 
without  his  wife.  He  was  so  mean  as  to  sue  one  man  for  a  debt 
of  £6,  and  another  for  £1  19s.  10^./  when  he  had  an  income  of 


Bid  Norton  brew  such  ale  as  Shakespeare  fancies 
Did  put  Kit  Sly  into  such  lordly  trances  : 
And  let  us  meet  there  (for  a  fit  of  gladness), 
And  drink  ourselves  merry  in  sober  sadness. 

"  '  When  the  Stratford  lads  went  over  to  Bidford,  they  found  the  topers 
were  gone  to  Eversham  fair,  but  were  told,  if  they  wished  to  try  then- 
strength  with  the  sippers,  they  were  ready  for  the  contest.  This  being 
acceded  to,  our  bard  and  his  companions  were  staggered  at  the  first  outset, 
when  they  thought  it  advisable  to  sound  a  retreat,  while  the  means  of  retreat 
were  practicable,  and  then  had  scarce  marched  half  a  mile  before  they  were  all 
forced  to  lay  down  more  than  their  arms,  and  encamp  in  a  very  disorderly  and 
unmilitary  form,  under  no  better  covering  than  a  large  crab-tree,  and  there 
they  rested  till  morning. 

"  *  This  tree  is  yet  standing  by  the  side  of  the  road.  If,  as  it  has  been 
observed  by  the  late  Mr.  T.  Wharton,the  meanest  hovel  to  which  Shakespeare 
has  an  allusion  interests  curiosity  and  acquires  an  importance,  surely  the 
tree  which  has  spread  its  shade  over  him,  and  sheltered  him  from  the  dews  of 
the  night,  has  a  claim  to  our  attention. 

"  '  In  the  morning,  when  the  company  awakened  our  bard,'  the  story  says, 
'  they  entreated  him  to  return  to  Bidford  and  renew  the  charge,  but  this  he 
declined,  and  looking  round  upon  the  adjoining  villages,  exclaimed,  "  No  !  I 
have  had  enough,  I  have  drunk  with 

Piping  Pebworth,  Dancing  Marston, 
Haunted  Hillbro',  Hungry  Grafton, 
Dudging  Exhall,  Papist  Wicfesford, 
Beggarly  Broom,  and  Drunken  Bidford.'' 

"  '  Of  the  truth  of  this  story  I  have  very  little  doubt.  It  is  certain  that 
the  crab-tree  is  known  all  round  the  country  by  the  name  of  Shakespeare's 
crab,  and  that  the  villages  to  which  the  allusion  is  made  all  bear  the  epithets 
here  given  them  :  the  people  of  Pebworth  are  still  famed  for  their  skill  on  the 
pipe  and  tabor  :  Hillborough  is  now  called  Haunted  Hillborough,  and  Grafton 
is  notorious  for  the  poverty  of  its  soil.'  " 

The  above  relation,  if  it  be  true,  presents  us  with  a  most  unfavourable 
picture  of  the  manners  and  morals  prevalent  among  the  youth  of  War- 
wickshire in  the  early  years  of  Shakespeare,  and  it  fills  us  with  regret  to  find 
our  immortal  poet,  with  faculties  so  exalted,  competing  the  bad  pre-eminence 
in  such  abominable  contests.  It  is  some  relief  to  know  that,  though  he  erred 
in  uniting  himself  with  such  gross  associations,  he  was  the  first  to  retreat  from 
them  in  disgust. 

2  Knight's  "Shakespeare,"  Appleton  and  Co.'s  American  edition,  p.  1  44  ; 
E.  Grant  White,  p.  145. 

3  Knight,  vol.  i.  p.  158. 


io    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

1000^  a  year,  and  died,  at  the  age  of  fifty-two,  from  the  effect 
of  too  much  drink  at  dinner.4  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  all  his  life  a  clamorous  office-seeker,  a  time-server,  and 
a  corrupt  judge.  He  was  condemned  to  the  Tower,  when  Lord 
Chancellor,  for  having  sold  his  judicial  opinions  for  money,  and, 
worse  still,  confessed  the  crime  in  order  to  mitigate  his  sentence. 
On  a  review  of  his  whole  character,  Pope,  the  poet,  stingingly 
characterized  him  as 

"  The  wisest,  brightest,  meanest  of  mankind." 

So,  between  William  Shakespeare  and  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  in  a 
moral  point  of  view,  there  was  no  great  gulf.  Indeed,  if  there 
were  any  disparagement  of  degradation,  it  was  against  Sir 
Francis. 

Most  of  the  Shakespearian  biographers  and  critics  make  it  a 
matter  of  regret  that  so  little  being  known  of  the  history  of 
the  great  poet,  it  is  exceedingly  difficult  to  form  a  true 
estimate  of  his  personal  character;  but  the  difficulty  which  I 
find  in  that  respect  is,  that  these  biographers  and  commentators 
nearly  all  start  from  the  one  point,  of  endeavouring  to  conceal,  or 
at  least  to  palliate,  those  follies  and  defects  which  might  impair 
Shakespeare's  influence  or  credit  with  the  people.  They  set  out, 
consequently,  with  the  desire  to  describe  Shakespeare  as  they 
would  like  to  have  him.  His  robbing  of  a  gentleman's  park,  a 
very  high  crime  at  any  time  in  England,  is  patronized  gently  as 
a  youthful  escapade,  and  the  premature  appearance  of  the  first 
child  of  his  marriage  has  been  justified  by  the  presumed 
privileges  of  a  Warwickshire  betrothal. 

There  has  been  some  dispute  among  Shakespeare's  biographers 
about  his  religious  faith,  a  few  having  presented  evidences  tend- 
ing to  show  that  he  was  a  Roman  Catholic;  but  the  great 
majority,  being  of  Protestant  politics,  discourage  that  idea. 
Bacon  we  know  to  have  been  a  Protestant  of  an  extreme  type, 
and  from  this  difference  springs  an  interesting  point  of  our 
inquiry.  The  question  presents  itself  at  once  as  to  which 
religious  faith  is  most  manifested  in  the  plays.  If  they  were  the 
production  of  a  Roman  Catholic,  Bacon  could  not  have  been 
their  author. 

4  Richard  Grant  White,  pp.  46,  55. 


Shakespeare  s  Early  Life.  1 1 

What  we  have  first  upon  our  hands,  however,  is  the  singular 
anomaly  presented  by  the  spectacle  of  a  genius  of  the  life-giving' 
order,  who  was  born  in  comparative  humbleness,  never  betray- 
ing one  emotion  for,  or  exhibiting  a  single  sympathy  with  the 
down-trodden  classes,  whose  degradations  and  miseries  must  have 
constantly  intruded  upon  his  subtle  comprehension.  But  the 
mist  lifts  before  the  light  of  facts.  We  have  abundant  evidence 
that  Shakespeare  was,  in  his  personal  way  of  life,  though  of  a 
cheerful,  amiable  disposition,  a  calculating,  money-making, 
money-saving  man,  and  the  conclusion  from  the  circumstances 
of  his  business  in  London  and  at  Stratford  must  be,  that  he 
suppressed  his  natural  sentiments  to  a  convenience  of  association 
and  a  sense  of  interest.  His  first  patron,  when  he  was  a 
theatrical  manager,  was  the  Earl  of  Southampton,  a  prodigal 
young  nobleman  of  enormous  wealth,  who,  together  with  the 
Earls  of  Essex  arid  of  Rutland,  were  constant  visitors  at  his 
theatre.5 

So  thoroughly  had  Shakespeare  established  himself  under  the 
patronage  of  Southampton,  that  he  dedicated  to  him  his  "Venus 
and  Adonis,"  and  in  the  following  year  also  his  "Lucrece."  By 
way  of  showing,  moreover,  the  extent  to  which  the  dramatist  had 
advanced  himself  into  his  lordship's  favour,  Richard  Grant 
White  states  (p.  97),  that  Shakespeare  took  this  liberty  in  the 
matter  of  "  Venus  and  Adonis  "  without,  "  as  the  dedication 
shows/'  asking  his  lordship's  permission ;  a  very  unusual  responsi- 
bility, says  the  same  commentator,  to  assume  with  the  name  of 
any  man,  much  less  a  nobleman,  unless  he  had  felt  himself 
secure  in  his  lordship's  good  graces.  Southampton  was  at  this 
time  under  twenty  years  of  age,  and  Essex  (subsequently  the 
favourite  of  Queen  Elizabeth)  was  but  four  years  older.  In 
speaking  of  these  young  noblemen  and  their  associates,  who  it 
maybe  as  well  to  state  jyere  Catholics,  Judge  Holmes  in  his 
essay  in  favour  of  the  Baconian  theory  says,  that  Southampton, 
Rutland,  and  the  rest  of  "Essex's  jovial  crew  "  pass  their  time  in 
London  in  merely  going jfco_  plays  every  day." 

It  was  about  this  time,  says  Rowe,  that  "  my  lord  Southampton 

at  one  time  gave  Shakespeare  1000/.  to  enable  him  to  go  through 

a  purchase  he  had  a  mind  to."     This  princely  gift  is,  of  course, 

ascribed  to  Southampton's  estimation  of  the  muse  of  Shakespeare, 

5  The  "  Authorship  of  Shakespeare,"  Nathaniel  Holmes,  p.  95. 


12    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

but  inasmuch  as  Southampton  never  exhibited  any  appreciation 
of  literature  beyond  having  the  run  of  Shakespeare's  theatre,  we 
are  justified  in  attributing  the  earl's  attachment  to  the  manager 
to  considerations  which  frequently  operate  with  young  men  of 
means  and  fashion  down  to  the  present  day.  It  is  true  that,  in 
Shakespeare's  time,  there  were  no  actresses  attached  to  theatrical 
companies,  the  female  parts  being  performed  by  boys,  but  it  was 
the  custom  of  ladies  of  quality  to  sit  upon  the  stage  during 
theatrical  entertainments,  and  there  are  several  anecdotes  of 
intrigues  having  taken  place  between  them  and  young  gallants, 
under  such  circumstances.6  And  this  theory  of  personal 
familiarity  between  Shakespeare  and  a  coroneted  gallant  of  nine- 
teen is  all  the  more  likely,  than  the  one  which  ascribes  South- 
ampton's liberality  to  his  patronage  of  literature,  since  that 
nobleman  lived  till  he  was  fifty-four  without  having  given  any 
other  evidence  of  a  love  of  letters,  or,  indeed,  without  having 
made  any  mark  beyond  getting  himself  into  the  Tower  for 
taking  part  in  Essex's  foolish  Irish- Jesuit  expedition,  which  cost 
the  latter  unhappy  nobleman  his  life. 

Considerations  such  as  the  foregoing  would  as  satisfactorily 
account  for  the  ajj^prir^^n^Shakespjffi^  »f  Jjberal  jjejxtinients,  as 
the  natural  tendencies  of  Bacon's  rank  would  account  for  the 
latter's  aristocratic  coldness  of  heart. 

Let  not  the  rapt  worshippers  of  Avon's  bard,  whose  sacred 
ecstasy  is  thus  rudely  broken  in  upon,  suppose  I  take  pleasure  in 
these  hard  statistics.  Nothing  can  reduce  Shakespeare  from  the 
supreme  elevation  which  he  holds  in  the  United  States  as  the 
poet  of  the  English-speaking  race ;  but  we  in  America  take  no 
interest  in  him  as  a  politician,  nor  yet  as  a  moralist;  and, 
surely  it  is  wiser  for  us,  who  are  not  involved  in  any  tangles  of 
allegiance,  to  disenchant  ourselves  of  the  spells  fumed  up  by 
loyalty  and  doctrine,  and  treat  this  mighty  morlaLjaa^a^man. 
Perhaps  the  most  curious  and  interesting  problem  which ~~caiT" 
thus  be  brought  to  our  comprehension  is — what  amount  of  dirt 
may  mix  with,  and  be  instrumental  in,  the  production  of  a 
flaming  gem.  And  Bacon  is  as  subject  to  this  criticism  as 
Shakespeare. 

6  Queen  Elizabeth  used  sometimes  to  sit  behind  the  scenes,  and  on  one 
occasion  crossed  the  stage  in  view  of  the  audience  while  Shakespeare  himself 
was  performing  a  character. 


Lord  Bacon.  13 


CHAPTER  III. 

LOUD   BACON. 

"  They  say,  best  men  are  moulded  out  of  faults." 

Measure  for  Measure,  Act.  V.  Scene  1. 

THE  theory  that  Lord  Verulam  (familiarly  known  as  Lord  Bacon) 
was  the  author  of  the  plays  attributed  to  Shakespeare,  first 
became  a  matter  of  general  discussion,  as  I  have  already  stated, 
in  consequence  of  an  article  by  Delia  Bacon,  in  the  January 
number  of  Putnam's  Magazine  for  1856,  published  in  America — 
three  hundred  and  fifteen  years  after  Bacon  was  born,  and  two 
hundred  and  fifty-nine  years  after  "William  Shakespeare  had 
been  buried.  The  claim  set  up  for  Bacon,  therefore,  is  barely 
nineteen  years  old,  as  against  the  nearly  three  hundred  years  of 
general  acceptance,  by  history,  of  Shakespeare's  rights.  Shortly 
after  the  appearance  of  Miss  Bacon's  essay  in  the  American 
magazine,  she  published  it,  somewhat  enlarged,  in  pamphlet 
form,  with  an  introduction  by  Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  in  which 
shape  it  crossed  the  Atlantic,  and  had  its  ideas  adopted  by  an 
English  writer  named  William  H.  Smith,  who  supported  and 
extended  her  views  in  an  ingenious  treatise  published  by  him  in 
London  in  1857.  Eight  years  afterwards,  the  November  number 
of  Eraser's  Magazine  for  1865  showed  that  Lord  Palmerston  had 
become  a  convert  to  the  Baconian  theory,  and  in  the  following 
year  Nathaniel  Holmes,  Professor  of  Law  in  Harvard  University, 
Cambridge,  Mass.,  issued  an  elaborate  volume  of  600  pages 
supporting  Miss  Bacon's  view.  Here  we  have  the  whole  scope 
of  the  Baconian  pretension,  comprising  at  the  most  a  period  of 
twenty  years,  with  a  meagre  following  of  conspicuous  advocates  ; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  stand  grouped  in  silent  protest  a  crowd 
of  Baconian  biographers,  stretching  through  well-nigh  three 


14    Shakespeare^  from  an  American  Point  of  Vieiv. 

centuries,  who,  with  the  greatest  desire  to  aggrandize  the  object 
of  their  worship,  never  dropped  a  hint  of  the  idea  that  Bacon 
could  possibly  have  been  the  author  of  the  plays  of  Shakespeare. 
Nay,  more,  one  of  the  latest,  W.  Hepworth  Dixon,  writing  as 
late  as  1861,7  alludes  to  Shakespeare  as  a  separate  person  from 
the  subject  of  his  work. 

Having  thus  marshalled  the  forces  of  the  two  parties  to  the 
controversy  (for  the  silence  of  Bacon's  biographers  practically 
arrays  them  on  the  side  of  Shakespeare),  it  now  suggests 
itself  that  we  should  inquire  briefly  into  the  separate  histories  of 
Bacon  and  Shakespeare,  and  ascertain  what  connexion  each  had 
with  the  literature  of  their  age ;  and  what,  if  any,  were  their 
relations  to  one  another.  They  are  consigned  to  us  by  the  history 
of  the  times  in  which  they  lived,  as  two  characters ;  one  as  the 
unapproachable  Master  of  Philosophy  and  Law,  and  the  other  as 
the  most  transcendent  genius  of  Poetry  and  Imagination.8 


SIR  FRANCIS  BACON,  Lord  Verularn,  Viscount  St.  Albans,  and 
Lord  High  Chancellor  of  England,  was  born  Jan.  22, 1560.  He 
matriculated  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  at  the  age  of 
thirteen,  and  soon  afterward  passed  two  years  in  travel  on  the 
European  continent.  In  1584?  he  first  sat  in  the  House  of 
Commons  as  member  for  Melcombe,  and  from  this  time  (though 
he  was  by  courtesy  the  Queen's  Lord  Keeper  at  the  age  of  ten), 
may  be  dated  the  commencement  of  his  public  official  career. 

In  the  parliamentary  sessions  of  1586-7-8  young  Bacon  played 
a  most  influential  part.  "  These  three  sessions/'  says  Dixon, 
"  had  to  save  the  liberties  of  England  and  the  faith  of  nearly 
half  of  Europe.  They  crushed  the  Jesuits  and  broke  and 
punished  the  Romanist  conspiracies."  This  fixes  Bacon's  faith, 
like  that  of  his  mother,  the  pious  Lady  Ann  (whom  he  speaks  of 
as  "  a  saint  of  God  "),  to  be  of  the  Protestant  persuasion,  though 
we  find  a  more  decisive  proof  of  Bacon's  doctrine  in  the  fact, 


'  Dixon's  "Personal  History  of  Lord  Bacon,"  Boston,  1861. 

8  "  Those  two  incomparable  men,  the  Prince  of  Poets  and  the  Prince  of 
Philosophers,  who  made  the  Elizabethan  age  a  more  glorious  and  important 
era  in  the  history  of  the  human  mind  than  the  age  of  Pericles,  of  Augustus, 
or  of  Leo." — Lord  Macaulay,  "  Essay  on  Burleigh  and  his  Times,"  vol.  v. 
p.  611,  ed.  Trevelyan. 


Lord  Bacon.  1 5 

that  he  was  one  of  a  committee  which,  in  1587,  waited  upon 
Queen  Elizabeth  to  demand  the  execution  of  Mary,  Queen  of 
Scots.  To  use  the  words  of  Dixon  in  describing  the  scene : 
"The  Queen  (Elizabeth)  holds  out.  A  grand  committee,  of 
which  Bacon  is  a  member,  goes  into  the  presence,  and,  kneeling 
together  at  her  feet,  demand  that  the  national  will* shall  be  done 
— that  the  Protestant  faith  shall  be  saved."  & 

About  the  year  1589,  we  find  Bacon,  who  was  then  between 
twenty-nine  and  thirty  years  of  age,  the  associate  of  Essex, 
who  was  twenty-three,  of  Southampton,  who  was  nineteen, 
Montgomery,  Pembroke,  Rutland,  "and  the  rest  of  Essex's 
jovial  crew,  which  passed  their  time  in  going  to  Shakespeare's 
theatre  every  day."  At  this  time  Shakespeare  himself,  though 
already  famous,  was  but  twenty-five.  This  brings  the  above 
nobleman  so  in  communication  with  Shakespeare,  that  nothing 
is  more  probable  than  that  some  of  his  unplayed  manuscripts 
were  read  to  "  Essex,  Southampton,  and  the  rest,"  perhaps  in 
Bacon's  presence — a  common  custom  with  authorship  and 
patronage  in  the  Elizabethan  age. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  impossible  that  Shakespeare,  who 
doubtless  was  a  great  reader,  touched  now  and  then  upon  some 
of  Bacon's  theories,  and  thus  we  may  readily  account  for  any 
supposed  plagiarism  of  one  upon  the  other.  I  do  not  wish  to  be 
understood,  however,  as  admitting,  at  this  point,  that  either  of 
these  wondrous  men  was  ever  indebted  to  the  other  for  an  idea ; 
though  the  most  exacting  devotee  of  Bacon  might  readily  admit 
the  occasional  obligation  of  the  latter  to  the  poet,  without 
brushing  a  single  grain  of  the  golden  powder  from  his  idol's 
wing.  The  likelihood,  indeed,  is  far  greater  that  Bacon  insen- 
sibly fell  into  the  habit,  during  the  midsummer  of  Shakespeare's 
current  popularity,  of  drawing  from  him  as  from  a  common  well 
of  language.  This  has  been  the  custom  of  the  world  since  he 
appeared,  and  even  such  a  man  #s  Bacon  could  hardly  have 
resisted  the  temptation. 

The  spinal  column  of  the  Baconian  claim  is,  that  Sir  Francis 
Bacon  considered  the  reputation  of  a  playwright  to  be  so  de- 
rogatory to  his  social  and  literary  pretensions,  as  well  as  to  his 
high  political  aspirations,  that  he  concealed  his  taste  for  dra- 

9  Dixon's  "  Personal  History  of  Lord  Bacon,"  p.  29. 


1 6    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

matic  writing"  under  the  convenient  mask  of  the  good-natured 
and  popular  manager  of  the  Blackfriars  Theatre  ;  or,  to  use  the 
language  of  the  article  in  Fraser,  that  he  (Bacon)  "  passed  the 
plays  off  under  the  name  of  an  actor  for  fear  of  compromising  his 
professional  prospects  and  philosophic  gravity."  But  the  main 
difficulty  in  the  way  of  this  theory  is,  that  successful  dramatic 
composition  was  recognized  by  very  high  honours  in  the  times 
of  Elizabeth  and  James  I.,  Shakespeare  himself  having  reached 
the  high  compliment  of  an  introduction  to  Court  for  his  successes 
in  that  way.  In  addition  to  this,  the  dramatists  of  that  day  were 
most  of  them  men  of  scholarship ;  several  being  of  a  social 
position  quite  worthy  of  ranking  with  that  of  Sir  Francis  Bacon. 
For  instance,  Massinger,  "  second  to  none  but  him  who  never 
had  an  equal/'  received  his  education  at  Oxford,  and  lived  to  an 
old  age,  "  solaced  by  the  applauses  of  the  virtuous.-"  l  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher  (the  latter  of  whom  was  buried  in  the  same  grave 
with  Massinger)  were  lawyers — in  all  ages  the  profession  of 
gentlemen.  Marlowe,  the  tragic  poet,  matriculated  at  Cam- 
bridge ;  Shirley  studied  at  Oxford ;  Ben  Jonson  "  had  the 
singular  happiness  of  receiving  his  education  under  the  illus- 
trious Camden."  His  studies  were  interrupted  by  his  change  of 
circumstances,  through  his  mother's  death,  but  they  were  finally 
completed  at  Cambridge ;  Quarles  was  educated  at  Cambridge ; 
Lyly  went  first  to  Oxford  and  finished  at  Cambridge ;  and 
grouped  with  these  come  Thomas  Sackville,  subsequently  Lord 
Treasurer,  Lord  Buckhurst,  and  we  may  add,  Sir  Philip  Sidney, 
the  equal  of  princes,  who  "  wrote  one  dramatic  piece,  '  The  Lady 
of  the  May/  a  masque,  acted  before  Elizabeth  in  the  gardens  of 
Wanstead,  in  Essex/''  Sidney  was  Elizabeth's  "  ambassador  to 
the  German  powers,  but  when  the  fame  of  his  valour  and  genius 
became  so  general  that  he  was  put  in  nomination  for  the  king- 
dom of  Poland,  she  refused  to  sanction  his  advancement  lest  she 
should  lose  the  brightest  jewel  in  her  court." '  Surely  this 
illustrious  example  of  honour  and  advancement  might  have 
justified  Bacon,  after  the  mighty  merits  of  such  productions  as 
"Lear,"  "Hamlet/'  and  "Othello"  had  been  recognized  by  the  best 
critics  of  the  time,  to  accept  the  credit  of  their  composition  to 
himself — provided  always  that  he  was  their  author.  Besides, 

1  Knight's  octavo,  published  by  Guy  and  Baine,  London,  p.  37. 

2  Knight's  octavo,  p.  43. 


Lord  Bacon.  1 7 

Bacon  openly  wrote  dramatic  compositions  under  the  form  of 
masques  and  mysteries;  first,  for  the  gentlemen  at  Gray's  Inn 
during  the  Christmas  Revels  of  1587,  and  subsequently,  in 
1594,  for  the  entertainment  of  the  court.3 

Bacon  married  Alice  Barnham  at  the  age  of  forty-six;  at  fifty- 
two  he  was  made  Attorney-General,  and  became  Lord  Chancellor 
at  the  age  of  fifty-seven.  In  the  fourth  year  of  this  great 
office  he  was  detected  in  taking  bribes  for  his  decisions,  and, 
having  confessed  his  crime  in  order  to  propitiate  the  mercy  of 
his  judges,  was  sent  to  the  Tower  on  May  3,  1621.  After  re- 
maining a  prisoner  for  ten  months,  the  fine  inflicted  on  him  was 
remitted  and  he  was  released  in  March,  1622.  He  never  resumed 
public  life,  but  died  three  years  afterwards  in  1625.  Bacon  was 
a  thorough  specimen  of  the  politician  of  that  time,  being  a  per- 
sistent applicant  for  office,  and  always  selfish,  sordid,  and 
unfaithful.  He  was  exceedingly  greedy  of  money,  and  though 
his  revenues  most  of  the  time  were  liberal,  he  was  constantly 
the  victim  of  the  usurers.  Some  of  his  biographers  describe 
him  as  pure  in  his  morals  and  temperate  in  his  habits,  which 
certainly  does  not  represent  the  case  of  William  Shakespeare. 

Dixon  speaks  of  Bacon  as  "  a  man  born  to  high  rank  who 
seeks  incessantly  for  place/'  while  according  to  Pope  and  Lord 
Campbell,  Cecil  and  Coke,  he  is  "  in  turn  abject,  venal,  proud, 
profuse — ungrateful  for  the  gifts  of  Essex,  mercenary  in  his  love 
for  Alice  Barnham,  servile  to  the  House  of  Commons,  and  corrupt 
on  the  judicial  bench." '  The  most  noteworthy  feature  of  the  work 
of  Dixon  is,  that  its  author  does  not  make  even  the  slightest 
allusion  to  the  Bacon- Shakespeare  theory,  though  that  theory 
had  then  been  projected  full  five  years.  And,  perhaps,  at  this 
point,  it  is  worthy  of  mention  that  Bacon,  on  the  other  hand, 
never,  in  all  his  voluminous  writings,  made  the  most  distant 
allusion  to  Shakespeare. 

Such  was  Bacon,  for  whom  the  Baconians  claim,  that  he 
possessed  more  of  the  education,  wit,  emotional  elevation,  and 
moral  fitness  for  the  production  of  such  intellectual  light  as 
beams  through  the  plays  before  us,  than  the  man  to  whom  these 
plays  have  always  been  ascribed,  and  who  indisputably  wrote 
"  Venus  and  Adonis.-" 

3  Holmes,  p.  90. 

4  Dixon's  "  Personal  History  of  Lord  Bacon,"  Boston,  1861,  p.  4. 


1 8    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

WILLIAM    SHAKESPEARE. 

"  IT  is  quite  a  fallacy/''  says  Halliwell,  one  of  the  most  pains- 
taking and  reliable  of  the  biographers  of  Shakespeare,  f<  to 
complain  how  little  we  are  acquainted  with  William  Shake- 
speare's career  and  worldly  character.  On  the  contrary,  we  should 
be  thankful  we  know  more  of  him  than  we  do  of  Spenser,  or  of 
many  others,  the  history  of  whose  lives  would  be  so  interesting 
and  so  valuable/'' *  "  We  know  more  of  William  Shakespeare 
before  he  was  forty  years  old,"  says  Richard  Grant  White,  taking 
up  this  cue  from  Halliwell,  "  than  we  do  of  Oliver  Cromwell  at 
the  same  age  ;  than  the  Greeks  knew  of  2Eschylus,  the  father  of 
their  tragedy ;  or  of  Aristophanes,  the  father  of  their  comedy, 
two  centuries  after  they  died  ;  or  than  the  French  do  of  Moliere, 
not  a  page  of  whose  manuscripts  is  known  to  be  in  existence/'' 
"  The  same  truth,"  adds  this  writer,  "  is  illustrated  in  the 
biography  of  Washington,  whose  own  nephew,  to  whom  were 
open  all  family  papers  and  records,  was  unable  to  discover  the 
date  of  his  marriage,  although  his  wife,  Mrs.  Custis,  was  one  of 
the  richliest  dowered  widows  in  all  Virginia."  ;  The  truth  is,  as 
I  have  said  before,  there  were  abundant  details  of  the  personal 
life  of  William  Shakespeare  open  to  the  hands  /6f  the  early, 
and  even  the  later  English  biographers,  if  they  had  only 
thought  it  politic  to  state  frankly  and  without  subterfuge,  all 
they  knew  about  him.  Some  of  the  reasons  for  their  reticence 
I  have  already  given.  In  dealing  with  Shakespeare's  history 
for  the  purposes  of  this  inquiry  I  shall  endeavour  to  be  very 
brief. 

1  Halliwell's  "  Shakespeare,"  p.  2. 

2  Pilchard  Grant  White,  p.  182,  4,  5. 


William  Shakespeare.  19 

William  Shakespeare  was  born  at  Stratford-upon-Avon,  on 
the  23rd  April,  1564.  His  father,  John  Shakespeare,  was, 
according-  to  Rowe,  a  considerable  dealer  in  wool,  and  had  been 
first  alderman  and  then  high  bailiff  of  the  body  corporate  of 
Stratford.  He  had  also  been  chamberlain,  and  possessed  lands 
and  tenements  which  were  said  to  have  been  the  reward  of  his 
grandfather's  faithful  services  to  King  Henry  VII.  It  has  also 
been  said  that  John  Shjtkfispeare  at  one  time  followed  the 
occupation  of  a  butcher,  but  this  report  doubtless  grew  out  of 
his  occasionally  adding  to  his  trade  in  wool,  the  sale  of  furs ;  and, 
when  opportunity  invited,  according  to  the  custom  of  country 
stores,  the  sale  of  butcher's  meat.  At  the  birth  of  our  poet,  who 
was  a  first  son,  John  Shakespeare  was  in  a  thriving  condition, 
and  this  prosperity  continued  for  some  years  afterward.  William, 
as  soon  as  he  had  arrived  at  a  proper  age,  was  placed  at  a  free 
grammar  school  of  the  town  of  Stratford,  where  Latin  and  other 
liberal  acquirements  were  taught ;  but  at  the  age  of  fourteen  he 
was  rather  suddenly  withdrawn,  in  consequence  of  the  decline  in 
his  father's  circumstances,  either  to  assist  him  in  his  business,  or 
to  lend  a  hand  in  gaining  his  own  livelihood.  Some  of  the 
commentators  think,  that  from  school  he  went  into  the  office  of 
a  country  attorney,  or  was  placed  with  the  seneschal  of  some 
manor  court,  "  where/'  says  one  writer,  "  it  is  highly  probable 
he  picked  up  those  law  phrases  that  so  frequently  occur  in  his 
plays,  and  which  could  not  have  been  in  common  use,  unless 
among  professional  men.3  This  view,  in  addition  to  being  in  it- 
self very  plausible,  derives  its  main  support  from  an  attack  made 
upon  Shakespeare  by  one  of  his  London  dramatic  cotemporaries, 
Robert  Greene,  who,  jealous  of  our  poet's  rapid  rise  over  all  his 
rivals  in  popular  estimation,  sneered  at  him  for  presuming  to  be 
t{  the  only  Shake-scene  in  a  countrey."  Nash,  a  parasite  of 
Greene's,  and  of  the  same  coarse,  envious  character,  next  attacks 
and  practically  advises  our  poet  to  return  to  his  original  "  trade 

3  Duyckinck's  "  Life  of  Shakespeare,"  in  Porter  and  Coate's  edition,  Phila- 
delphia, 1874,  p.  3. 

4  "  Trust  them  not  (?'.  e.^the  players),  for  there  is  an  upstart  crow,  beauti- 
fied with  our  feathers,  that  with  his  tiger's  heart  wrapt  in  a  player's  hide, 
supposes  he  is  as  well  able  to  bombast  out  a  blank  verse  as  the  best  of  you ; 
and  being  an  absolute  Johannes  factotum,  is,  in  his  own  conceit,  the  only 
Shak-scene  in  a  countrey." — Greene's  "  Groat's  Worth  of  Wit." 


2O    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

of  noverint" 5  which  indicates  the  calling1  of  an  attorney's  clerk.6 
The  age  of  fourteen,  therefore,  which  sees  Shakespeare  retire 
from  the  Stratford  school,  is  the  true  commencement  of  his 
public  life. 

It  now  becomes  a  matter  of  great  importance  to  our  inquiry 
to  ascertain  with  what  religious  sentiments  or  leanings  William 
Shakespeare  embarked  upon  the  world ;  (for,  after  all,  it  matters 
not  how  men  may  drop  the  observance  of  religious  forms, 
as  the  constant  pressure  of  expanding  worldly  knowledge  chips 
that  reverence  away)  the  early  teachings  of  a  religious  mother 
always  represent  a  large  dormant  influence,  which  awakens  at 
every  opportunity,  to  give  direction  to  the  general  flow  of 
judgment.  And  it  is  entirely  well  settled  that  Mary  Arden,  the 
mother  of  William  Shakespeare,  daughter  and  heiress  of  Robert 
Arden,  of  Wellingcote,  styled  ' { a  gentleman  of  worship,"  was  a 
Roman  Catholic.  We  have  already  seen  that  the  mother  of 
Francis  Bacon  was  a  Protestant.  By  following  this  line  of 
inquiry,  and  gauging  it  carefully,  as  we  go  along,  by  the  in- 
variable religious  sentiment  of  the  Shakespeare  plays,  we  must 
finally  reach  a  point  decisive.  For,  though  Essex  and  South- 
ampton, Shakespeare's  great  patrons  were  Catholics,  and  though 
Shakespeare  may  be  supposed  to  have  been  influenced  by  their 
political  predilections,  from  any  expression  savouring  of  democracy 
in  his  writings,  it  is  not  to  be  credited  for  an  instant  that  a  man 
of  such  early  training  could  have  been  domineered  by  them  from 
the  natural  flow  of  his  religious  sentiments.  On  the  contrary, 
there  is  much  reason  to  believe  that,  in  this  particular,  he  and 
they  were  in  full  accord. 

Let  me  add  at  this  point  that  it  is  certainly  known  that  Sir 
Thomas  Lucy,  whose  deer  were  stolen  by  Shakespeare  soon  after 

5  Noverint  universi  per  presentes  is  the  Latin  for  "know  all  men  by  these 
presents,"  hence  attorneys  were  often  called  noverints  from  their  frequent 
use  of  that  term.     The  nickname  could  apply  to  no  other  class. 

6  "  It  is  a  common  practice  now-a-days,  among  a  sort  of  shiftless  com- 
panions that  run  through  every  ait  and  thrive  by  none,  to  leave  the  trade  of 
noverint,  whereto  they  were  born,  and  busy  themselves  with  the  endeavours 
of  art,  though  they  could  scarcely  latinize  their  neck-verse  if  they  should 
have  need;  yet  English  Seneca,  read  by  candle-light,  yields  many  good  sen- 
tences—and if  you  entreat  him  fair  in  a  frosty  morning,  he  will  afford  you 
whole  Hamlets,  I  should  say,  handfuls  of  tragical  speeches." — Nashe's  Intro- 
duction to  "  Greene's  Menaphon,"  1589,  and  Knight,  vol.  i.  p.  102. 


William  Shakespeare.  21 

\ 

he  left  school,  and  under  whose  persecutions  it  seems  the  future 
poet  was  finally  driven  out  of  Stratford  was,  of  that  strict  shade 
of  the  reformed  faith  known  as  Puritan,  and  as  such,  was  one  of 
a  commission  appointed  by  the  government  to  report  against 
heretics  and  nonconformists.7  As  such  commissioner,  Sir 
Thomas  Lucy,  with  the  rest  of  the  board,  reported  against  John 
Shakespeare,  the  father,  and  about  fourteen  other  persons,  for 
not  having,  during  several  weeks,  made  their  appearance  at 
church.  Eight  of  these  derelicts,  among  whom  we  again  find 
John  Shakespeare,  were  likewise  impugned  with  the  further 
motive  of  desiring  by  such  non-attendance  to  evade  the  service 
of  process  for  debt.  This  latter  imputation  is  rather  eagerly 
adopted  by  the  Protestant  biographers  of  Shakespeare  in  pre- 

7  Harness,  in  describing  the  incident  between  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  and  young 
William  Shakespeare,  which  had  such  a  decisive  influence  upon  the  poet's  life, 
says,  "  One  of  the  favourite  amusements  of  tbe  wild  companions  with  whom 
Shakespeare  in  bis  youthful  days  allied  bimself,  was  the  stealing  of  deer  and 
corries.  In  tbese  bazardous  exploits  Sbakespeare  was  not  backward  in  accom- 
panying bis  comrades.  Tbe  person  in  wbose  neigbbourbood,  perhaps  on 
wbose  property,  these  encroachments  were  made,  was  of  all  others  the  indi- 
vidual from  wbose  bands  they  were  least  likely  to  escape  witb  impunity  in  case 
of  detection.  Sir  Tbomas  Lucy  was  a  Puritan  ;  and  tbe  severity  of  manners 
whicb  bas  always  characterized  tbis  sect,  would  teacb  him  to  extend  very 
little  indulgence  to  the  excesses  of  Sbakespeare  and  bis  wilful  companions. 
He  was,  besides,  a  game  preserver :  in  bis  place  as  a  member  of  Parliament 
be  bad  been  an  active  instrument  in  the  formation  of  the  game  laws,  and  the 
trespasses  of  our  poet,  wbetber  committed  on  tbe  demesne  of  bimself  or  others, 
were  as  offensive  to  his  predilections  as  to  bis  principles.  Shakespeare  and 
bis  compeers  were  discovered,  and  fell  under  the  rigid  lasb  of  Sir  Tbomas 
Lucy's  authority  and  resentment.  Tbe  knigbt  attacked  tbe  poet  witb  tbe 
penalties  of  tbe  law,  and  the  poet  revenged  bimself  by  sticking  some  satirical 
verses  on  the  gate  of  the  knight's  park.  Tbe  following  are  the  first  and 
last:— 

Verses  on  Sir  Thomas  Lucy. 

"  A.  parliement  member,  a  justice  of  peace, 

At  home  a  poore  scarecrowe,  in  London  an  asse ; 

If  Lucy  is  Lousie,  as  some  volke  misscall  it, 

Sygee  Lousie  Lucy  whatever  befall  it. 

****** 
"  If  a  iuvenile  frolick  he  cannot  forgive, 

We'll  synge  Lousie  Lucy  as  long  as  we  live  ; 

And  Lucy  the  Lousie  a  libel  may  call  it, 

We'll  synge  Lousie  Lucy  whatever  befall  it." 
3 


22    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

ference  to  the  first,  because,  perhaps,  they  are  thus  enabled  to 
escape  the  inference  that  the  Shakespeare  family  was  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  faith. 

Before  proceeding  farther  as  to  Shakespeare's  religious  faith, 
I  will  return  to  the  historical  narration,  in  order  that  the  decisive 
questions  of  our  poet's  social,  political,  and  religious  sentiments 
may  follow  in  regular  order,  and  lead  up  to  the  door  of  the 
text,  with  as  little  further  interruption  as  possible.  In  this,  as 
I  have  already  said,  the  objects  of  our  inquiry  only  permit  me  to 
be  brief. 

We  have  seen  that  Shakespeare,  owing  to  his  father's 
straitened  circumstances,  left  school  at  the  age  of  fourteen; 
but  we  are  justified  in  the  conclusion  that  he  acquired  a  sufficient 
knowledge  of  the  classics,  during  the  last  two  or  three  years  of  his 
studies,  to  qualify  him  for  all  the  use  which  is  exhibited  of  such 
learning  in  the  plays,  and  this,  from  the  fact  (says  Malone)  "that 
other  Stratford  men,  educated  at  the  same  school,  were  familiarly 
conversant  with  Latin,  and  even  corresponded  in  that  language.""  ! 
Upon  this  point  Mr.  Lofft  asserts,  in  his  introduction  to  the 
"Aphorisms/'  that  Shakespeare  "had  what  would  now  be 
considered  a  very  reasonable  proportion  of  Latin;  he  was  not 
wholly  ignorant  of  Greek ;  he  had  a  knowledge  of  French  so  as 
to  read  it  with  ease,  and,  I  believe,  not  less  of  the  Italian.  If  it 
had  been  true  that  he  had  no  Greek,  as  some  contend  from  Ben 
Jonson's  famous  line,  that  he  had  '  little  Latin  and  less  Greek/ 
it  would  have  been  as  easy  for  the  verse  as  for  the  sentiment  to 
have  said  'no  Greek/'  It  is  hard  to  defeat  this  reasoning; 
Aubrey  and  Dr.  Drake  agree  with  it,  and  Harness,  in  subscribing 
to  it,  remarks,  "  That  Shakespeare  should  appear  unlearned  in 
the  judgment  of  Jonson,  who  perhaps  measured  him  by  the 
scale  of  his  own  enormous  erudition,  is  no  imputation  upon  his 
classical  attainments."  I  think  it  may  be  properly  suggested 
at  this  point,  that  nothing  is  more  likely  than  that  Shakespeare 
keenly  pursued  his  studies  after  he  left  school;  and  if,  as  there 
seems  to  be  but  little  doubt,  he  wont  into  an  attorney's  office,  he 
had  ample  leisure  for  such  application.  The  experience  of  every 
man  who  has  ever  had  a  taste  for  study  will  tell  him  how  natural 
such  a  course  would  bej  nay,  how  strange  it  would  have  been  if 

8  Malone's  "  Shakespeare,"  Boswell's  Edition,  vol.  ii.  p.  182. 

9  "  Aphorisms  from  Shakespeare,"  pp.  12,  13,  14. 


William  Shakespeare.  23 

the  eager  mind  of  Shakespeare  had  not  followed  it.  The  extent 
of  proficiency  acquiredhby  a  mind  like  his,  after  such  a  good 
start  as  it  had  received,  cannot  be  captiously  limited.  It  is  fair, 
therefore,  to  terminate  the  analysis  of  this  first  period  of  our 
poet's  life  with  the  conclusion  that  William  Shakespeare,  though 
not  so  great  a  scholar  as  Lord  Bacon,  possessed  all  the  reading 
and  classical  accomplishment ^re^uisj|ejfcojtJie^roductiD^of  the 
Shakespeare  plays;  and  though  he  never  became  a  lawyer  in 
any  true  senslfofthat  term,  he  had,  in  some  lesser  way,  acquired 
all  the  "  conveyancer's  jargon/'  and  phrases_of  attorneyship 
which  are  to  be  found  sprinkled  through  his  dramatic  works. 
The  period  for  this  educational  improvement,  in  the  semi- solitude 
of  a  little  country  town  like  Stratford  ran,  in  Shakespeare's  case 
from  fourteen  till  the  age  of  twenty-two,  at  which  latter  date  he 
went  up  to  London.  I  may  here  be  met  by  the  remark,  in 
objection  to  the  probability  of  Shakespeare's  studious  habits, 
that  he  began  by  leading  a  wild,  dissipated  life,  and  married  at 
the  age  of  eighteen.  But  every  married  man's  experience  will 
tell  him  that  the  conjugal  condition  rather  promotes  serious 
reflection  than  otherwise;  while  Shakespeare's  drunken  bouts, 
his  matches  at  intoxication,  and  his  infractions  of  the  game-laws 
under  the  form  of  deer-stealing,  may  be  regarded  as  the  neces- 
sary vents  and  excesses  of  an  intensely  active  nature,  which 
could  not  be  "cribb'd,  cabin'd  and  confined"  of  its  natural 
instincts  by  the  sleepy  decorum  of  a  place  like  Stratford. 

Yielding  to  these  wilful  impulses  in  yet  another  way,  he  made 
his  precocious  and  imprudent  marriage.  The  object  of  his  choice 
was  Ann  Hathaway,  the  daughter  of  a  substantial  yeoman  of 
Shottery,  a  little  village  about  three  miles  from  Stratford.  She 
was  eight  years  older  than  Shakespeare,  which  circumstance 
doubtless  had  its  effect  in  producing  the  long  separations  that 
took  place  between  them  in  the  form  of  extended  stays  in 
London  during  his  after-life.  This  marriage  took  place  in 
December,  1582,  and  their  first  child  subsequent  to  it  was 
Susanna,  born  May  23,  1583,  a  period  of  little  more  than  five 
months.  Shakespeare  showed  his  superior  affection  for  this 
child,  however,  by  leaving  her  the  bulk  of  his  property.  It 
would  seem,  therefore,  that  he  could  not  have  doubted  her 
paternity,  whatever  scandals  may  have  got  into  circulation  on 
the  subject.  It  does  not  appear,  indeed,  that  there  ever  was  any 


24    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

positive  disagreement  between  himself  and  wife ;  though  it  is 
worthy  of  observation,  that  in  the  first  copy  of  his  will  he  made 
no  mention  of  her  name,  and  only  inserted  it  afterward  to  the 
extent  of  leaving  her  "  his  second-best  bed."  He  probably  was 
influenced  to  the  slightness  of  this  bequest,  by  the  fact  that  she 
was  sufficiently  provided  for  out  of  his  real  estate  by  the  usual 
common-law  right  of  dower. 

Nearly  all  of  Shakespeare's  biographers  show  a  disposition  to 
shield  him  and  Ann  Hathaway  from  the  inferential  reproach  of 
the  premature  debut  of  Susanna,  by  assuming  that  the  period  of 
betrothal  in  that  age,  in  some  portions  of  England,  imparted  all 
the  liberties  of  wedlock.  Perhaps  we  have  Shakespeare's  own 
opinion  on  the  subject  in  the  following  lines  of  Claudio's  in 
"Much  Ado  about  Nothing/'  where  he  replies  to  Leonato's 
reproaches  for  slandering  the  honour  of  his  daughter  Hero, 
whom  Claudio  stood  engaged  to  marry : — 

CL  AUDIO.     I  know  what  you  would  say;  if  I  have  known  her, 
You'll  say  she  did  embrace  me  as  a  husband 
And  so  extenuate  the  "  forehand  sin." 

Much  Ado,  Act  IV.  Scene  1. 

And,  again,  in  the  Duke's  advice  to  Mariana,  in  "  Measure  for 
Measure :" — 

DUKE  (disguised  as  a  priest}.      Nor,  gentle  daughter,  fear  you  not  at  all. 
He  is  your  husband  on  a  pre-contract : 
To  bring  you  thus  together,  'tis  no  sin, 
Sith  that  the  justice  of  your  title  to  him 
Doth  flourish  the  deceit. 

Measure  for  Measure,  Act  IV.  Scene  1. 

On  the  subject  of  his  wife's  superior  age,  we  find  Shakespeare 
again  testifying  in  "  Twelfth  Night "  as  follows  : — 

DUKE.  Let  still  the  woman  take 

An  elder  than  herself;  so  wears  she  to  him, 
So  sways  she  level  in  her  husband's  heart. 

Ticelfth  Nig  Jit,  Act  II.  Scene  4. 

And  still  again,  in  the  same  piece,  to  Viola,  who  is  disguised 
as  a  young  man : — 

DUKE.     Then  let  thy  love  be  younger  than  thyself, 
Or  thy  affection  cannot  hold  the  bent : 
For  women  are  as  roses,  whose  fair  flower, 
Being  once  displayed,  doth  fall  that  very  hour. 

Twelfth  Night,  Act  II.  Scene  4. 


William  Shakespeare.  25 

Further  on  in  the  same  play,  the  poet  puts  his  own  case  with 
still  more  distinctness.  Olivia,  the  heroine  of  the  piece,  having 
mistaken  Sebastian  for  Viola,  whom  she  has  seen  only  as  a  page, 
and  with  whom  she  is  madly  in  love,  invites  him  with  expressions 
of  the  utmost  fondness  to  her  apartments.  Sebastian,  who  has 
never  seen  Olivia  before,  follows  her  wonderingly,  and  they  pass 
some  hours  together.  After  the  interval  of  a  scene  with  other 
characters,  Sebastian  reappears  in  Olivia's  garden,  musing  and 
alone,  and  hardly  able  to  contain  himself  with  his  good  fortune. 
After  gazing  with  rapture  on  a  pearl  Olivia  has  given  him,  he 
says,— 

I  am  mad, 

Or  else  the  lady's  mad ; 
But  here  my  lady  comes. 

Enter  OLIVIA  and  a  Priest. 

OLIVIA  (to  Sebastian).    Blame  not  this  haste  of  mine ;  if  you  mean  well, 

Now  go  with  me,  and  with  this  holy  man, 

Into  the  chantry  by ;  there,  hefore  him, 

And  underneath  that  consecrated  roof 

Plight  me  the  full  assurance  of  your  faith ; 

That  my  most  jealous  and  too  doubtful  soul 

May  live  at  peace ;  he  shall  conceal  it, 

Whiles  you  are  willing  it  shall  come  to  note, 

What  time  we  will  our  celebration  keep, 

According  to  my  birth.     What  do  you  say  ? 
SEBASTIAN.      I'll  follow  this  good  man,  and  go  with  you, 

And  having  sworn  truth,  ever  will  be  true. 
OLIVIA.  Then  lead  the  way,  good  father ;  and  heavens  so  shine 

That  they  may  fairly  note  this  act  of  mine. 

Act  IV.  Scene  3. 

There  are  two  further  passages  in  the  plays  bearing  upon  this 
subject  of  troth-plight  and  premature  birth  which  may  as  well 
be  noticed  at  this  point.  The  first  of  these  we  find  in  "The 
Winter's  Tale/' 

LEONTES.     My  wife's  a  hobby-horse  ;  deserves  a  name 
As  rank  as  any  flax-wench,  that  puts  to 
Before  her  troth-plight. 

Act  I.  Scene  2. 

The  other  occurs  in  "  King  John/'  in  the  scene  between  the 
King,  Robert,  and  the  Bastard. 


26    Shakespeare^  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

KOBEBT  FAULCONBRIDGE  (alluding  to  the  Bastard). 

And  this  my  mother's  son  was  none  of  his ; 
And,  if  he  were,  he  came  into  the  world 
Full  fourteen  weeks  before  the  course  of  time. 

Act  I.  Scene  1. 

These  fourteen  weeks,  which  Sir  Robert  thus  refers  to, 
represent  just  about  the  precocity  of  Susanna  Shakespeare,  and 
it  will  be  seen  that  the  poet,  in  neither  case,  made  the  defi- 
ciency the  subject  of  a  reproach  or  penalty.  Whether  this 
frequent  recurrence  to  an  important  incident  in  Shakespeare's 
life  was  most  natural  to  Shakespeare  or  to  Bacon,  the  reader 
can  readily  settle  for  himself.  In  this  connexion  our  attention 
becomes  directed  to  the  frequency  with  which  the  author  of  the 
plays  indulges  in  a  word  which,  though  common  enough  in 
Shakespeare's  time,  I  must  be  excused  for  quoting.  I  allude 
to  the  word  cuckold.  It  is  surprising  to  note  the  extent  to  which 
he  revels  in  this  term.  It  is  profusely  sprinkled  through  all  his 
comedies  and  his  historical  plays.  His  tragedies  also  plentifully 
bear  the  soil  of  the  idea ;  and,  indeed,  there  are  very  few  of  the 
plays  which  are  free  from  this  strange  fantasy.  The  word,  and 
even  its  equivalents,  seem  to  operate  upon  him  like  a  spell. 
Their  merest  mention  provokes  in  his  mind  the  most  un- 
bounded merriment.  Like  the  introduction  of  a  syringe  to 
a  French  audience,  the  fancy  never  tires.  Indeed,  it  appears 
to  deprive  our  poet  of  all  self-control,  and  he  rolls  before  the 
reader,  and  hold  his  sides  like  one  who  is  on  the  brink  of  a  fit, 
from  excess  of  the  ludicrous.1  The  question  which  presents 
itself  in  connexion  with  this  observation  is,  whether  such  a 
development  of  comic  ecstasy  would  be  more  likely  to  Sir  Francis 
Bacon,  who  was  not  married  until  he  was  forty-six,  or  to  William 
Shakespeare,  who,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  married  a  matured 

1  In  looking  over  the  "  Dramatic  Miscellanies  "  of  Thomas  Davies,  pub- 
lished in  London  in  1784,  I  find  the  following  allusion  to  Congreve's 
frequent  use  of  the  same  word  in  his  plays :  "  The  audience  in  Congreve's 
time,"  says  Davies,  "  were  particularly  fond  of  having  a  city-cuckold  dressed 
up  for  their  entertainment,  and  Fondle-wife  in  Congreve's  "  Old  Bachelor  "  is 
served  up  with  very  poignant  sauce,  for  the  several  incidents  in  the  scene  are 
very  diverting." — Davies'  "  Miscellanies,"  vol.  iii.  p.  316. 

Congreve  was  doubtless  governed  in  this  matter  by  the  taste  which  Shake- 
speare had  so  industriously  inculcated. 


William  Shakespeare.  27 

woman,  and  was  rewarded  with  a  child  in  little  more  than  five 
months  afterwards  ? 

Within  eighteen  months  after  the  birth  of  Susanna,  Shake- 
speare's wife  bore  him  twins,  a  son  and  a  daughter,  who  were 
baptized  by  the  names  of  Hamnet  and  Judith ;  "  and  thus,  when 
little  more  than  twenty,  Shakespeare  had  already  a  wife  and 
three  children  dependent  on  his  exertions  for  support/"  He 
remained  at  home  in  Stratford  until  1586,  when,  as  we  have 
already  seen,  he  went  to  London  to  seek  new  fortunes,  in  that 
larger  sphere.  Whether  he  had  written  anything  beyond  son- 
nets previous  to  that  time  does  not  appear.  It  seems  that  he 
went  at  once  to  the  neighbourhood  of  the  theatres,  and  it  is 
reported  that  he  began  by  holding  gentlemen's  horses  at  the 
doors.  Having  probably  thus  become  acquainted  with  the 
management,  he  readily  worked  his  way  inside  the  temple  of  the 
drama,  and  was  soon  promoted  to  the  position  of  call-boy  on  the 
stage. 


28    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


CHAPTER  V. 


SHAKESPEARE'S  progress  from  this  point  appears  to  have  been 
very  rapid.  He  soon  was  permitted  to  play  minor  parts,  and  in 
three  or  four  years  acquired  an  interest  in  the  management  of 
the  Globe,  and  also  in  the  summer  theatre,  which  was  known  as 
the  playhouse  at  Blackfriars.  At  what  precise  time  he  began 
to  write  his  plays  is  not  definitely  known,  as  they  all  found  their 
way  into  print  without  any  effort  on  his  part,  and  the  dates  of 
their  production  was  consequently,  to  a  large  extent,  confounded 
with  the  order  of  their  publication ;  but,  taking  Furnival's  table 
for  our  guide,  it  may  safely  be  concluded  that  he  began  to  write 
them  as  early  as  1588-9.  It  is  a  singular  fact  that  he  appeared 
to  take  no  interest  in  the  vast  renown  they  were  building  up  for 
him ;  for  it  was  not  until  seven  years  after  his  death  that  the 
first  collection  of  them  was  printed  together,  in  what  has  been 
universally  known  as  "the  folio  of  1623."  Of  his  poems  and 
sonnets  he  seemed  to  be  a  great  deal  more  considerate,  having 
published  most  of  them  over  his  own  name  and  supervision,  and 
dedicating  the  "  Venus  and  Adonis,"  and  the  "  Rape  of  Lucrece  " 
in  1593  and  1594  respectively  to  the  young  Earl  of  Southampton. 
In  his  dedication  of  the  former  poem  to  the  Earl,  he  charac- 
terizes it  as  "  the  first  heir  of  his  invention,"  but  it  is  known 
that  he  wrote  plays  previous  to  its  appearance,  so  it  is  not  im- 
probable that  the  "  Venus  "  had  been  written  much  earlier,  and 
had  perhaps  been  begun  previous  to  his  leaving  Stratford.  He 
followed  the  profession  of  an  actor  for  upwards  of  seventeen 
years,  and  the  production  of  his  plays,  which  began  probably 
when  he  was  twenty-four,  covered  a  period  of  twenty- six  years. 
During  this  period  he  produced  thirty-seven  plays. 


Shakespeare  s  Personal  Characteristics.  29  ) 

N^sJ^ 

"  The  latter  part  of  his  life,"  says  Howe,  "  was  spent  in  ease, 
retirement,,  and  the  conversation  of  his  friends/'  and  he  died  on 
his  birthday,  April  23rd,  1616,  at  the  age  of  52,  in  the  full 
maturity  of  his  powers,  and  leaving  a  large  property  behind  him. 
The  immediate  cause  of  his  death  is  reported  by  Ward,  the  vicar 
of  Stratford,  to  have  been  a  merry  meeting  which  he  had  with 
Drayton  and  Ben  Jonson ;  at  which,  says  the  vicar,  "  it  seems 
he  drank  too  hard,  for  Shakespeare  died  of  a  fever  there  con- 
tracted." Knight  is  unwilling  to  give  absolute  confidence  to 
this  tradition,  because  the  vicar  wrote  forty  years  after  the  event, 
"  but,"  he  remarks,  "  if  it  were  absolutely  true  our  reverence 
for  Shakespeare  would  not  be  diminished  by  the  fact  that  he 
accelerated  his  end  in  the  exercise  of  hospitality,  according  'to 
the  manner  of  his  age,  towards  two  of  the  most  illustrious  of  his 
friends."  Knight's  objection,  that  Ward  wrote  forty  years  after 
the  event,  has  but  little  force  when  we  learn  that  the  good  vicar's 
work,  in  which  the  above  fact  is  stated  was  his  diary,  published 
naturally  at  the  close  of  his  career. 

In  person  Shakespeare  is  represented  as  having  been  of  full  size, 
comely  and  prepossessing ;  of  agreeable  manners,  but  not  marked 
either  by  bearing  or  in  features  with  that  dignity  of  presence 
which  we  naturally  associate  with  our  ideas  of  his  genius.  He 
was  chiefly  remarkable  as  a  good-natured,  amiable,  easy-going 
man,  with  more  heart  than  conscience,  of  a  convivial  inclination, 
with  full  conversational  powers,  supported  by  a  readiness  of  wit 
which  made  him  a  desirable  companion  for  men  of  any  amount 
of  acquirement  or  rank.  "^Every  contemporary  who  has  spoken 
of  him,"  says  one  writer,  "  has  been  lavish  in  the  praise  of  his 
temper  and  disposition.  f  Tfofi  gp.nl2a  Sfrajfce.fippfl^ '  seemsto 
have  been  his  distinguishing  appellation."  "  No  slighFjportiQiL 
of  our  enthusiasm  for  his  writings,"  says  anoiner,  "  may  be 
traced  to  the  fair  picture  which  they  present  of  our  author's 
character;  we  love  the  tenderness  of  heart,  the  candour  and 
openness  and  singleness  of  mind,  the  largeness  of  sentiment,  the 
liberality  of  opinion,  which  the  whole  tenor  of  his  works  prove 
him  to  have  possessed ;  his  faults  seem  to  have  been  the  transient 
aberrations  of  a  thoughtless  moment,  which  reflection  never 
failed  to  correct."  All  affroft  f.hnf  Sha,kggj)eare'sjDresence  was 
very  attractive,  while  many  incidents  are  given  by  his  contem- 
poraries to  show  that  with  women  lie  was  very  fascinating.  The 


3O    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

general  disposition  evinced  by  his  biographers,  most  of  whom 
approach  him  only  in  awe  and  almost  upon  their  knees,  is  to  dis- 
believe the  broadest  of  these  anecdotes,  as  if  it  were  discreditable 
to  his  intellect  for  him  to  have  been  so  much  a  man.  But  the 
character  of  Bacon  has  already  revealed  to  us  that  morals  are  not 
indispensable  to  intellectual  force,  and  that  the  divine  afflatus  of 
the  poet  may  find  its  way  to  the  most  sublime  developments 
through  the  muddiest  of  niters.  T  am  disposed,  therefore,  to 
accept  most  of  the  stories  about  Shakespeare's  conviviality  and 
gallantry,  and  think  them  less  to  his  discredit,  even  when  they 
stretch  to  the  extremity  of  deer-stealing,  than  were  the  low  con- 
trivances by  which  Bacon  sought  and  retained  office,  or  the  sale 
of  his  judicial  opinions  from  the  bench. 

One  of  these  stories  about  Shakespeare  is  recorded  by  Oldys  in 
his  MSS.,  and  it  is  supported  by  such  additional  authority  that 
we  cannot  help  giving  it  full  credence.  It  seems  that  it  was  the 
habit  of  our  poet,  in  his  trips  between  Stratford  and  London, 
to  bait  his  horses  at  the  Crown  Inn  or  Tavern,  in  Oxford,  which 
was  kept  by  Mr.  John  Davenant,  "  a  grave,  melancholy  man," 
never  known  to  laugh,  who  was  subsequently  Mayor  of  Oxford, 
and  whose  son  William  became  afterward  a  poet  under  the  title 
of  Sir  William  Davenant.  But  Mrs.  Davenant,  the  hostess, 
was  by  no  means  a  grave  and  melancholy  woman.  On  the  con- 
trary, tradition  says  she  was  "  very  mettlesome/'  and  withal 
quite  pretty.  During  the  several  years  through  which  these 
London  and  Stratford  trips  and  Oxford  stoppages  continued, 
scandal  was  very  free  about  the  terms  existing  between  the 
buxom  hostess  and  the  London  manager.  "  One  day/'  and  we 
have  this  story  on  the  authority  of  Pope,  the  poet,  "  an  old  towns- 
man, observing  the  boy  running  homeward,  almost  out  of  breath, 
asked  him  whither  he  was  posting  in  that  heat  and  hurry. 
He  answered,  to  see  his  ^od-father  Shakespeare.  '  There's  a  good 
boy/  said  the  other,  '  but  have  a  care  that  you  don't  take  God's 
name  in  vain.' ';  This  story,  Pope  told  at  the  Earl  of  Oxford's 
table,  upon  the  occasion  of  some  discourse  which  arose  about 
Shakespeare's  monument,  then  newly  erected  in  Westminster 
Abbey;  and  he  quoted  Mr.  Betterton,  the  player,  for  his 
authority/' !  The  tale  is  also  mentioned  by  Anthony  Wood  ; 

1  Reed's  "  Shakespeare,"  vol.  i.  pp.  124,  125. 


Shakespeare's  Personal  Characteristics.  3 1 

and  certain  it  is  that  the  traditionary  scandal  of  Oxford 
has  always  spoken  of  Shakespeare  as  the  father  of  Davenant ; 2 
"  but  it  imputes  a  crime  to  our  author/'  says  a  reverend  com- 
mentator, "  of  which  we  may,  without  much  stretch  of  charity, 
acquit  him.  It  originated  in  the  wicked  vanity  of  Davenant 
himself,  who,  disdaining  his  honest,  but  mean  descent  from  the 
vintner,  had  the  shameless  impiety  to  deny  his  father,  and 
reproach  the  memory  of  his  mother  by  claiming  consanguinity 
with  Shakespeare/1' 

Before  leaving  the  sketch  of  Shakespeare  at  this  point,  I  de- 
sire to  call  attention  to  the  fact,  as  bearing  upon  the  question  of 
the  claims  set  up  for  Bacon,  that  his  contemporary,  Ben  Jonson, 
wrote  a  laudatory  sketch  of  Shakespeare  in  his  introduction  to 
the  plays,  and  gave  the  highest  stamp  of  his  approbation  to  the 
Bard  of  Avon's  genius  by  the  famous,  but  generally  mis- 
quoted line, 

"  He  was  not  of  an  age,  but  for  all  time." 

This  naturally  brings  us  to  the  disposal  of  a  common  error,  on 
which  the  Baconians  place  very  great  reliance.  I  allude  to  the 
popular  tradition  that  Shakespeare  thought  with  such  facility  that 
he  never  blotted  out  a  line.  Ben  Jonson,  in  his  "  Discoveries/' 
mentions  this  preposterous  statement  as  follows :  "  I  remember 
the  players  have  often  mentioned  it,  as  an  honour  to  Shake- 
speare, that  in  writing  (whatsoever  he  penned)  he  never  blotted 
out  a  line.  My  answer  hath  been,  '  Would  he  had  blotted  out  a 
thousand  V  which  they  thought  a  malevolent  speech.  I  had  not 
told  posterity  this,  but  for  their  ignorance  who  chose  that  cir- 
cumstance to  commend  their  friend  by,  wherein  he  most  faulted ; 
and  to  justify  mine  own  candour,  for  I  loved  the  man,  and  do 
honour  his  memory,  on  this  side  idolatry,  as  much  as  any.  He 
was,  indeed,  honest,  and  of  an  open  and  free  nature,  had  an  ex- 
cellent fancy,  brave  notions,  and  gentle  expressions ;  wherein  he 
flowed  with  that  felicity  that  sometimes  it  was  necessary  he 
should  be  stopped;  Sufflaminandus  erat,  as  Augustus  said  to 
Haterius.  His  wit  was  in  his  own  power;  would  the  rule  of  it 
had  been  so  too." 

I  have  said  that  this  report  of  the  players  is  perfectly  pre- 

2  Reed,  note  ix.,  pp.  126,  127. 


32    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

posterous,  because  nothing  is  better  known  to  those  who  are  at 
all  familiar  with  theatrical  affairs  that  actors  rarely  or  ever  see 
an  author's  manuscript,  the  necessities  of  distribution  of  the  text 
and  of  study  among  the  various  members  of  a  dramatic  company, 
requiring  always  the  assistance  of  the  copyist's  art.  But  to  set 
this  fable  at  rest,  I  request  attention  to  the  following  specimens 
of  Shakespeare's  handwriting  in  the  form  of  signatures  on  the 
pages  of  his  will. 

These,  and  two  other  signatures,  one  in  a  book  and  the  other 
to  a  mortgage  deed,  are  the  only  five  specimens  of  Shakespeare's 


"  hand  "  extant,3  and  the  bare  sight  of  all  of  them  is  sufficient  to 
refute  the  idea  that  they  represent  facility ;  or,  that  when  his 
penmanship  had  reached  this  cramped  condition,  it  could  have  been 
made  serviceable  in  the  way  of  copying.  And  it  must  not  be 
supposed  that  the  above  signatures  were  appended  to  Shake- 
speare's will  during  the  feebleness  of  his  last  moments,  for  the 
document  to  which  they  are  attached  bears  date  22nd  March, 

3  The  utter  extinction  of  all  the  Shakespeare  manuscripts  is  attributed  to 
the  great  fire  of  London,  and  two  fires  which  occurred  in  Stratford. 


Shakespeare's  Personal  Characteristics.  33 

1616;  whereas  he  did  not  die  until  the  23rd  of  the  next  month 
— and  then  rather  unexpectedly,  as  we  have  seen.  Besides,  the 
two  other  signatures  are  precisely  similiar. 

There  is  still  another  proof  against  the  copying  theory  that 
logically  connects  itself  with  this  portion  of  the  case.  Among 
the  ear-marks  which  indicate  the  plays  to  be  the  production  of 
one  who  had  been  a  professional  player,  are  the  constantly  re- 
curring evidences  in  the  body  of  the  text  of  what  is  known 
among  actors. as  "  stage  business/-'  Striking  specimens  of  this 
professional  mystery  are  to  be  found  in  Hamlet's  directions  to 
the  players,  and  in  Peter  Quince's  distribution  of  the  copied 
parts  and  "  properties "  to  Bottom  and  his  mates,  in  "  Mid- 
summer Night's  Dream."  But  these  proofs  of  the  playwright's 
technical  and  professional  experience  abound  throughout  the 
Shakespeare  plays  to  such  a  degree  that  it  has  been  said  by 
actors  that  the  very  language  and  disposition  of  the  scenes  in 
the  Shakespeare  pieces  make  "  stage  business "  of  themselves. 
This  kind  of  expertry  could  hardly  have  been  acquired  by  Bacon ; 
neither  could  it  have  been  imparted  by  a  teacher ;  nor  yet  could  a 
copyist  of  less  intellectual  capacity  than  the  author  have  written 
such  matter  "  in  "  and  made  it  fit.  In  fact,  this  "  stage  business" 
in  Shakespeare  is  so  blended  with,  and  fashioned  to  the  text,  that 
it  could  not  have  been  inserted  after  writing  without  ruining 
the  structure;  nor  could  it  have  been  removed  therefrom  without 
bleeding  out  a  portion  of  its  life. 


34     Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   UELIGION   OF  THE   SHAKESPEARE   FAMILY. 

WE  have  now  brought  our  observations  down  to  a  point,  as 
between  Bacon  and  Shakespeare,  where  it  becomes  in  order  to 
follow  our  inquiry  into  the  religious  belief  of  William  Shake- 
speare ;  and  if  it  shall  appear  that  our  poet  was  beyond  all 
reasonable  doubt  a  Roman  Catholic,  we  shall  be  able  to  account 
for  several  things  which  might  otherwise  remain  disputable.  If, 
finally,  we  shall  show — after  tracing  all  the  probabilities  of  circum- 
stantial proof — that  the  unvarying  sentiment  and  verbal  testi- 
mony of  the  plays  indicate  the  writer  to  have  been  of  the  religion 
of  the  Church  of  Rome;  that  they  show  him  to  be  entirely 
familiar  with  its  dogmas,  tenets,  practices,  and  formula ;  that  he 
rarely  if  ever  alludes  to  a  priest  without  apparently  folding  his 
arms  across  his  breast  and  reverently  bowing  his  head;  and, 
beyond  all,  that  he  not  only  betrays  a  profound  ignorance  of  the 
formula  of  Protestantism,  but  never  alludes  to  a  Protestant 
preacher,  or  a  Puritan  as  he  prefers  to  call  him,  without  derision 
and  contempt ;  I  think  it  may  be  considered  we  have  brought  the 
Baconian  portion  of  our  inquiry  to  a  close — to  a  close,  through 
what  must  then  become  the  general  verdict,  that  the  plays  as- 
cribed to  William  Shakespeare  could  not  possibly  have  been  the 
work  of  a  confirmed  and  bitter  Protestant  like  Sir  Francis 
Bacon. 

The  ancestors  of  William  Shakespeare,  on  both  sides,  seem  to 
have  been  persons  of  some  note.  It  is  claimed  by  several  writers 
that  the  name  of  Chacksper,  or  Shackspeare,  or  Shakespeare,  "  a 
martial  name  however  spelt/'  says  Knight,  figured  among 
squires  at  arms  as  early  as  the  battle  of  Hastings,  won  by  the 
"  Conqueror"  in  1066.  The  battle  of  Bosworth  Field,  however, 


The  Religion  of  the  Shakespeare  Family.          3  5 

in  which  the  Earl  of  Richmond  (afterwards  Henry  VII.)  over- 
threw Richard  III.  in  1485,  makes  the  first  definite  historical 
presentation  of  both  the  paternal  and  maternal  Hues  of  the 
Shakespeare  family.  The  grant  of  a  coat  of  arms  in  1599  to 
Shakespeare's  own  father,  recites  of  "  John  Shakespeare,  now  of 
Stratford-on-Avon,"  that  his  "  antecessor,  for  his  faithful  and  ap- 
proved service  to  the  late  most  prudent  prince,  King  Henry  VII., 
of  famous  memory,  was  advanced  and  rewarded  with  lands  and 
tenements,  given  to  him  in  those  parts  of  Warwickshire  where 
they  have  continued  by  some  descents  in  good  reputation  and 
credit." 

The  mother  of  Shakespeare  was  Mary  Arden,  the  youngest  of 
the  seven  daughters  of  Robert  Arden,  one  of  whose  ancestors 
had  rendered  some  public  service  (probably  at  Bosworth  Field) 
for  which  he  was  rewarded  with  the  position  of  Groom  of  the 
Chamber  to  Henry  VII.  "  He  seems/'  says  Malone,  "  to  have 
been  a  favourite ;  for  he  had  a  valuable  lease  granted  to  him  by 
the  king,  of  the  manor  of  Yoxsall,  in  Staffordshire,  and  was  also 
made  keeper  of  the  royal  park  of  Aldcar."  "  Mary  Arden  ! "  ex- 
claims Knight  in  a  sore  of  rhapsody ;  "  the  name  breathes  of 
poetry.  It  seems  the  personification  of  some  Dryad,  called  by 
that  generic  name  of  Arden — a  forest  with  many  towers.  High 
as  was  her  descent,  wealthy  and  powerful  as  were  the  numerous 
branches  of  her  family,  Mary  Arden,  we  doubt  not,  led  a  life  of 
usefulness  as  well  as  innocence  within  her  native  forest  hamlet/'' 
Her  father  died  in  December,  1556,  and  his  will,  which  bears 
date  24th  November  of  that  year,  indicates  his  religious  faith  by 
opening  as  follows  : — 

"  First,  I  bequeath  my  soul  to  Almighty  God,  and  to  our 
blessed  Lady  St.  Mary,  and  to  all  the  holy  company  of  heaven/' 
Mary  had  the  best  position  in  her  father's  will,  and  was  made 
one  of  its  executors,  along  with  her  sister  Alice.  Knight,  who 
will  not  have  Shakespeare  to  have  been  a  Catholic  on  any  show- 
ing, does  not  think  "  that  the  wording  of  this  will  is  any  proof 
of  Robert  Arden's  religious  opinions ; "  but  Halliwell,  who  is 
equally  as  stiff  as  Knight  in  his  Protestantism,  says  that  the 
testator  "  was  undoubtedly  a  Catholic,  as  appears  by  his  allusion 
to  our  blessed  Lady  Saint  Mary  in  his  will/' '  And  the  faith  of 

1  Halliwell's  "  Shakespeare,"  p.  15. 


36     Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

the  father  thus  solemnly  expressed,  and  made  the  vehicle  of  his 
last  fond  paternal  trust,  douhtless  remained  precious  to  the 
daughter. 

Of  the  religious  faith  of  John  Shakespeare,  the  father  of  our 
poet,  who  married  Mary  Arden,  Halliwell  and  the  great  majority 
of  the  biographers  express  the  opinion,  or  leave  it  to  be  inferred, 
that  he  was  of  the  reformed  religion,  and  consequently  Protes- 
tant. They  support  this  view  withJLbe  fact  that  John  Shake- 
speare had  held  municipal  offices  in  Stratford,  which  required 
him  ttr^wcnra'dlicsioii  to  the  principles  of  Protestantism,  and  to 
acknowledge  the  Queen  of  England  instead  of  the  Pope,  as  the 
head  of  the  Church.  This  is  a  plausible  presentation,  certainly ; 
but  when  we  reflect  upon  the  bitter  religious  strifes  of  that  tran- 
sition period  between  the  Romish  and  the  Reformed  Church,  and 
observe  to  what  extent  the  Catholic  clergy  excused  such  political 
oaths,  when  they  might  assist  them  in  picketing  out  adherents  to 
posts  of  power,  the  argument  loses  a  great  portion  of  its  force. 
The  domestic  history  of  every  civil  war  will  show  numerous  in- 
stances of  malcontents  and  nonconformists  getting  into  office 
under  government  by  deceptive  protestations.  The  period  of  the 
Cavaliers  and  the  Roundheads  was  full  of  such  cases,  and  to  be 
more  familiar,  I  may  refer  to  the  fact  that  during  the  late  con- 
test in  the  United  States  between  the  North  and  South  there 
were  swarms  of  Confederates  snugly  nooked  in  the  Union 
Custom-houses;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  many  a  Northern 
hypocrite  was  supporting  rebellion  in  the  South  with  the  view  of 
stealing  cotton,  or  of  profiting  by  his  perfidy  in  some  other  way ;  all 
readily  swallowing  the  ironclad  oaths  of  allegiance  of  either  section, 
without  the  palliating  pressure  of  either  conscience  or  religion. 

But  we  have  what  may  be  regarded  as  direct  proofs  on  the 
subject  of  John  Shakespeare's  religious  faith.  One  of  these 
proofs  is  the  fact  that  a  Protestant  commission,  which  had  been 
appointed  by  the  Government  to  inquire  into  the  conformity  of 
the  people  of  Warwickshire  to  the  established  religion,  t{  with  a 
special  eye  to  Jesuits,  priests,  and  recusants"  reported  many 
persons  "  for  not  coming  monthlie  to  the  churche,  according  to 
hir  Majestie's  lawes.-"  Among  these  derelicts  was  John  Shake- 
speare, but  the  commissioners  specially  note  him,  and  eight 
others,  as  possibly  not  coming  to  church  for  fear  of  process  for 
debt.  One  of  these  commissioners  was  Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  aPuri- 


The  Religion  of  the  Shakespeare  Family.          3  7 

tan,  which  latter  fact,  as  well  as  this  report  against  the  poet's 
father,  may  account  for  the  subsequent  invasion  by  Shakespeare 
of  Sir  Thomas  Lucy's  park,  and  also  for  the  bitter  pasquinade 
which  the  poetic  youngster  launched  against  Sir  Thomas  for  his 
prosecution  of  that  trespass. 

The  most  direct  and  absolute  proof,  however,  that  John  Shake- 
speare was  of  the  Roman  Catholic  religion,  may  be  seen  in  his 
formal  "  Confession  of  Faith/"  which  was  found  nearly  two 
hundred  years  after  his  death,  and  the  discovery  of  which  is 
described  by  Dr.  Drake  as  follows : — 

"About  the  year  1770  a  master  bricklayer  of  the  name  of 
Mosely,  being  employed  by  .Mr.  Thomas  Hart,  the  fifth  in 
descent  in  a  direct  line  from  the  poet's  sister,  Joan  Hart,  to  new 
tile  a  house,  in  which  he  (Hart)  then  lived,  and  which  is  supposed 
to  be  that  under  whose  roof  the  bard  was  born,  found  hidden  be- 
tween the  rafters  and  the  tiling  of  the  house  a  manuscript,  con- 
sisting of  six  leaves  stitched  together,  in  the  form  of  a  small 
book.  This  manuscript  Mosely,  who  bore  the  character  of  an 
honest  and  industrious  man,  gave  (without  asking  or  receiving 
any  recompense)  to  Mr.  Peyton,  an  alderman  of  Stratford,  and 
this  gentleman  very  kindly  sent  it  to  Mr.  Malone,  through  the 
medium  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Davenport,  vicar  of  Stratford."2 
Drake,  p.  9 ;  Reed,  vol.  iii.  pp.  197,  198. 

Chalmers,  in  his  "  Apology  for  the  Believers  in  the  Shake- 
speare Papers/'  remarks  upon  this  document  that,  "  From  the 
sentiments  and  the  language,  this  confession  appears  to  be  the 
effusion  of  a  Roman  Catholic  mind,  and  was  probably  drawn  up 
by  some  Roman  Catholic  priest.  If  these  premises  be  granted 
it  will  follow,  as  a  fair  deduction,  that  the  family  of  Shakespeare 
were  Roman  Catholics — a  circumstance  which  is  wholly  consistent 
with  what  Mr.  Malone  is  now  studious  to  inculcate,  viz.,  that 
this  confession  could  not  have  been  the  composition  of  any  of  our 
poet's  family.  The  thoughts,  the  language,  the  orthography,  all 
demonstrate  the  truth  of  my  conjecture,  though  Mr.  Malone  did 
not  perceive  this  truth  when  he  first  published  this  paper  in  1790. 
But  it  was  the  performance  of  a  clerk—the  undoubted  work  of 
the  family  priest.  The  conjecture  that  Shakespeare's  family  were 

2  For  extracts  from  this  "  Confession  of  Faith,"  and  remarks  thereon  by 
Drake,  see  Note  at  the  conclusion  of  this  chapter. 
4 


38     Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Roman  Catholics  is  strengthened  by  the  fact  that  his  father  de- 
clined to  attend  the  Corporation  meetings,  and  was  at  last  removed 
from  the  corporate  body." 

"  But/'  continues  Chalmers,  "  this  reasoning  is  confirmed  by 
the  consideration  that  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  was  a  period  of 
apparent  piety,  and  the  reign  of  James  I.  an  age  of  religious  specu- 
lation. To  own  particular  modes  of  faith  became  extremely  fashion- 
able during  both  those  periods.  'It  was  probably  by  this  fashion 
that  Lord  Bacon,  the  prince  of  philosophers,  was  induced  to  draw 
up  his  Confession  of  Faith,  in  order  to  please  a  monarch  who 
interested  himself  in  religious  theories."  : 

"  Every  logician  would  infer,"  still  continues  Chalmers,  "  that 
if  it  (John  Shakespeare's  '  Catholic  Confession  of  Faith ' )  had  been 
the  custom  of  the  family,  which  was  followed  by  the  father,  it  is 
extremely  probable  the  same  custom  would  be  also  followed  by 
the  son,  who  at  times  cannot  conceal  his  faith,  even  in  his 
dramas." 

This  last  surmise  of  Chalmers  suggests  the  thought  that  the 
Great  Fire  of  London,  several  fires  at  Stratford,  and  especially  the 
fire  by  which  the  Globe  Theatre  was  destroyed  (to  which  accidents 
the  absence  of  any  scrap  of  William  Shakespeare's  handwriting 
has  been  attributed),  may  also  be  held  to  account  for  the  non- 
appearance  of  any  "  Confession  of  Faith  "  on  his  part.  It  appears, 
by  the  allusion  which  Chalmers  makes  above  to  Lord  Bacon's 
"  Confession  of  Faith,"  that  such  religious  documents  were 
common  in  that  age  to  men  of  all  persuasions.  Nevertheless 
they  appear  to  have  had  a  sort  of  solemn  secrecy  attached  to 
them,  and  from  what  we  gather  from  Dr.  Drake's  remark  in  a 
subjoined  note  it  is  not  unlikely  that  Shakespeare's  "  Confession  of 
Faith,"  if  he  made  one,  was  quietly  buried  with  him.  Perhaps 
this  particular  fact  was  reliably  known  (through  the  Fulman 
papers)  to  the  Rev.  Richard  Davies,  who,  writing  after  1688, 
flatly  says  that  "  Shakespeare  died  a  Papist." 4 

3  "  Chalmers's  Apology,"  sect,  v.,  pp.  198—200. 

4  The  Eev.  William  Fulman,  who  died  in  1688,  bequeathed  his  biographical 
collections  to  his  friend,  the  Rev.  Richard  Davies,  rector  of  Sapperton,  in 
Gloucestershire,  who  made  several  additions  to  them.     Davies  died  in  1708, 
and    these    manuscripts   were   presented  to  the  library  of  Corpus   Christ! 
College,  Oxford,  where  they  are  still  preserved.     Under  the  article  "  Shake- 
speare "  Fulman  made  very  few  notes,  and  those  of  little  importance ;  but 


The  Religion  of  the  Shakespeare  Family.         39 

"But  are  not  the  official  situations  held  by  Shakespeare's 
father  in  the  borough  conclusive  against  the  opinion  which  Mr. 
Chalmers  has  grounded  upon  it?"  indignantly  exclaims  a 
reverend  biographer.  Knight,  in  the  same  tone,  says  of  the 
"  Oath  of  Supremacy/'  which  Shakespeare's  father  must  have 
taken  in  order  to  hold  office,  that  "to  refuse  this  oath  was  made 
punishable  with  forfeiture  and  imprisonment,  with  the  pains  of 
pramunire  and  high  treason/'  To  such  objections  I  think  I  have 
already  opposed  cogent  reasons  why  the  aspiring  John  Shake- 
speare should  not  have  refused  to  take  the  oath,  and  these  of 
themselves  suggest  why  he  should  have  so  carefully  concealed  his 
"Catholic  Confession  of  Faith." 

If  it  is  clear  that  the  parents  of  William  Shakespeare  were 
both  devout  Catholics,  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the 
poet  followed  the  usual  instinct  of  a  child  by  imbibing  the  re- 
ligious sentiment  which  filled  his  home,  and  which  was  breathed 
over  him  into  his  spiritual  lungs,  as  it  were,  by  his  mother  while 
he  was  lying  in  his  cradle. 

The  first  piece  of  proof  we  have  upon  this  subject  is  very  posi- 
tive in  its  character.  It  comes  from  a  clergyman  who  knew 
Shakespeare,  and  upon  the  examination  of  whose  papers  another 
clergyman,  the  Rev.  Richard  Davies,  declares  that  the  poet,  who 
was  born  a  Papist,  died  one.  Surely  it  should  require  something 

Davies  inserted  the  curious  information  so  important  in  the  consideration  of 
the  deer-stealing  story.  The  following  is  a  complete  copy  of  what  the  MS. 
contains  respecting  Shakespeare,  distinguishing  the  addition  made  by  Davies 
by  italics : — 

"  William  Shakespeare  was  born  at  Stratford-upon-Avon,  in  Warwickshire? 
about  1563  or  '64.  Much  given  to  all  unluckiness  in  stealing  venison  and 
rabbits,  particularly  from  Sir  —  Lucy,  who  had  him  oft  whipt  and  some- 
times imprisoned,  and  at  last  made  him  fly  his  native  country  to  his  great 
advancement ;  but  his  revenge  was  so  great  that  he  is  his  Justice  Clodpate, 
and  calls  him  a  great  man,  and  that  in  allusion  to  his  name  bore  three 
louses  rampant  for  his  arms.  From  an  actor  of  plays  he  became  a  composer. 
He  died  April  23,  1616,  setat.  53,  probably  at  Stratford,  for  there  he  is 
buryed,  and  hath  a  monument  (Dugd.,  p.  520)  on  which  he  lays  a  heavy 
curse  upon  any  one  who  shall  remove  his  bones.  He  dyed  a  papist." 

This  testimony  has  been  doubted,  because  no  such  character  as  Clodpate 
occurs  in  any  of  Shakespeare's  plays ;  but  it  was  a  generic  term  o£  the  time 
for  a  foolish  person,  and  that  Davies  so  used  it  there  can,  I  think,  be  little 
doubt.— Halliwell,  p.  123. 


4O     Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

more  than  mere  incredulity  on  the  part  of  Protestant  biographers 
to  annihilate  this  authoritative  statement. 

The  positive  declaration  of  the  Kev.  Dr.  Davies,  founded  as  it 
was  upon  documentary  and  other  evidence,  furnished  to  him  as  a 
legacy  by  one  who  may  be  regarded  almost  as  cotemporary  with 
the  poet,  must  therefore  be  taken  as  proof  of  that  fact,  not 
to  be  affected  by  any  testimony  less  absolute  in  its  character, 
and  certainly  not  removed,  unless  sapped  quite  away  by  a  steady 
and  resistless  flow  of  circumstantial  evidence,  breaking  constantly 
as  our  proofs  do,  through  the  current  of  the  poet's  life,  and  con- 
tinually dropping  from  him  in  his  writings. 

Unfortunately  for  the  Protestant  side  of  the  argument,  the 
first  thing  we  fall  upon  in  corroboration  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Davies' 
declaration,  is  the  fact  that  it  was  made  two  years  previous  to  the 
discovery  by  Mosely  of  John  Shakespeare's  "  Confession  of  Faith." 
The  next  proof  we  have  of  the  tendency  of  circumstances  to  keep 
William  Shakespeare  faithful  to  the  precepts  of  his  infancy  is  the 
Puritan  persecution,  by  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  and  the  other  Protes- 
tant Commissioners  of  Stratford,  of  John  Shakespeare,  the  father, 
and  subsequent  punishment  by  Sir  Thomas  of  William  the  son. 
In  London  the  young  adventurer  was  immediately  met  by  the 
same  spirit  of  sectarian  intolerance  as  had  harassed  his  family  in 
Stratford,  and  which  again  challenged  him,  as  it  were,  upon  the 
very  threshold  of  his  new  efforts  to  pluck  a  nving  from  the  world. 
For  we  are  told  by  the  historians  of  the  Shakespearian  period 
that  the  contest  which  the  Theatre  had  to  undergo  for  an  existence, 
about  the  time  Shakespeare  went  up  to  London  was  between  the 
holders  of  opposite  opinions  in  religion.  "  The  Puritans,"  says 
Knight,  "  made  the  Theatre  the  special  object  of  their  indigna- 
tion." So  the  Protestant  crusade,  which  began  against  Shake- 
speare's father,  which  had  been  continued  against  Shakespeare 
himself,  before  he  arrived  at  man's  estate  in  Stratford,  maintained 
a  ceaseless,  unremitting  warfare  against  his  chosen  avocation  in 
the  great  metropolis. 

Thus,  having  shown  the  religious  conditions  under  which  the 
poet's  mind  was  formed,  the  pressure  of  circumstances  operating 
upon  his  filial  bent  and  tending  to  render  inexorable  the  opinions 
thus  initiated,  we  come  logically  to  the  examination  of  Shake- 
speare's personal  testimony  on  the  subjects  of  doctrine  and  religious 
faith,  as  exhibited  in  the  spontaneous  utterances  of  his  plays. 


His  Knowledge  of  the  Mariner  s  Art.  41 

I  confess  that  T  have,  from  the  first,  contemplated  the 
discussion  'of  this  portion  of  my  subject  with  some  misgiving, 
but  the  manifest  reluctance  betrayed  by  most  of  the  Shake- 
spearian commentators  to  touch  the  question,  and  the  disposition 
exhibited  to  follow  in  the  beaten  track,  makes  me  less  diffi- 
dent than  at  the  outset.  The  readiest  instance  which  comes 
to  me  to  illustrate  this  tendency  of  the  reviewers  to  follow  the 
old  finger-posts,  is  'the  common  idea  that  Shakespeare  had 
such  a  miraculous  poetic  intuition  that  he  needed  no  learning 
to  acquire  knowledge,  as  did  other  men.  One  of  the  familiar 
proofs  which  is  offered  of  this  wondrous  faculty  of  the  Bard  of 
Avon  is,  the  felicity  and  force  with  which  they  say  he  handles 
the  mariner's  art,  and  especially  in  the  power  and  truth  with 
which  he  describes  the  behaviour  of  a  vessel  in  a  gale. 

"  The  very  management  of  the  ship  in  the  '  Tempest,'"  says  one 
of  these  learned  commentators,  "  may  have  been  the  fruit  either 
of  casual  observation  or  of  what  men  of  letters  call  'cram/ 
rapidly  assimilated  by  his  genius/''  And  again,  this  same 
writer,  in  expressing  his  sense  of  the  power  of  the  poet's 
intuitive  comprehension,  directs  our  attention  to  that  fine 
description  in  Henry  the  Eighth  of  {<  the  outburst  of  admiration 
and  loyalty  of  the  multitude  at  sight  of  Anne  Bullen,  as  if  he 
(Shakespeare)  had  spent  his  life  on  shipboard." 

-  "  Such  a  noise  arose 

As  the  shrouds  makfe  at  sea  in  a  stiff  tempest ; 
As  loud,  and  to  as  many  tunes." 

"  And  yet,"  concludes  this  writer,  "  of  all  negative  facts  in  regard 
to  his  (Shakespeare's)  life,  none,  perhaps,  is  surer  than  that  he 
never  was  at  sea."*  Why,  who  does  not  know  that  Shakespeare 
was  an  Englishman,  and  as  such  may  be  almost  said  to  have 
been  born  at  sea?  The  shores  of  England  lie  among  roaring 
waves,  and  a  poet  can  often  find  before  his  eyes  as  much  turbulent, 
spiteful,  howling,  and  dangerous  water  by  looking  from  the  cliff 
at  Dover,  or  even  from  the  jetty  at  Margate,  as  he  would  meet 
with  in  traversing  a  thousand  miles  at  sea.  Every  Londoner 
who  can  afford  a  holiday  goes  to  the  seaside  in  summer,  and  a 
man  who  ventures  in  a  fishing-boat  a  mile  from  shore  on  any 
portion  of  the  English  or  Irish  coast  is  as  wide  at  sea — ay,  and 

5  Richard  Grant  White's  "  Shakespeare,"  p.  259. 


42     Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

sometimes  worse  at  sea  than  if  he  were  wearily  swinging  round 
Cape  Horn.  The  Earl  of  Salisbury,  who  probably  had  never  been 
more  at  sea  than  Shakespeare,  and  who,  like  all  Englishmen  who 
had  travelled  on  the  continent  only,  doubtless  got  all  his  know- 
ledge of  the  ocean  from  the  twenty-one  mile  trip  between  Dover 
and  Calais,  in  the  English  Channel,  is  made  to  say,  in  "King 
John/'— 

"  And  like  a  shifted  wind  unto  a  sail, 

It  makes  the  course  of  thoughts  to  fetch  about; 

Startles  and  frights  consideration." 

This  shows  no  more  than  that  Shakespeare  had  at  some  time 
been  out  on  a  fishing  or  boating  excursion,  or  had  looked  upon 
the  chafing  ocean  from  the  land. 

Mr.  White,  pursuing  the  same  subject  of  Shakespeare's  wonder- 
ful intuitiveness,  says,  "  We  may  be  very  sure  that  he  made  no 
special  study  of  natural  phenomena ;  and  indeed  no  condition  of 
his  life  seems  surer  than  that  it  afforded  him  neither  time  nor 
opportunity  for  such  studies.  Yet,  in  the  following  lines  from 
the  sixty-fourth  sonnet,  an  important  geological  fact  serves  him 
for  illustration : — 

"  When  I  have  seen  the  hungry  ocean  gain 
Advantage  on  the  kingdom  of  the  shore, 
And  the  firm  soil  win  of  the  watery  main, 
Increasing  store  with  loss,  and  loss  with  store.  *  * " 

"  Where,  and  how,  and  why  had  Shakespeare/'  exclaims  Mr. 
White,  "  observed  a  great  operation  of  nature  like  this,  which 
takes  many  years  to  effect  changes  which  are  perceptible?"  The 
answer  suggests  itself — Why  what  New  York  boy,  say  we,  who 
has  enjoyed  holiday  afternoons  in  visits  to  the  beach  at  Coney 
Island ;  or  what  Londoner  who  has  made  similar  trips  to  por- 
tions of  the  English  coast,  has  not  seen  the  shore,  one  season 
over-reached  and  devoured  by  the  flood,  receive  restitution 
during  the  next  season  by  the  ocean  heaving  the  plunder 
back  to  some  adjacent  spot  ?  And  pray  where  did  Mr.  White 
get  his  knowledge  of  this  phenomenon  from  ?  Did  he  get  it 
from  his  books  ?  Again  Mr.  White,  while  defending  Shake- 
speare with  much  warmth,  from  what  he  terms  "  the  reproach  of 
Papistry/'  states  that  the  Bard  nowhere  shows  a  leaning  towards 
any  form  of  church  government  or  towards  any  theological 
tenet  or  dogma.  And  this,  notwithstanding  the  poet's  constant 


The  Religion  of  the  Shakespeare  Family.         43 

allusions  to  holy  friars,  to  shrift,  to  purging  fires  and  confession ; 
is  about  as  sensible  as  to  declare  him  a  moral  writer,  in  face  of 
the  abominably  foul-tongued  characters  of  Parolles,  Falstaff,  and 
Doll  Tear-Sheet.6 

I  find  but  one  point  made  by  Mr.  "White  in  favour  of  his 
declaration  that  Shakespeare  was  not  a  Roman  Catholic,  which 
appears  at  first  sight  to  be  well  taken.  "  If  Shakespeare  became 
a  member  of  the  Church  of  Rome/''  says  he,  "  it  must  have 
been  after  he  wrote  "Romeo  and  Juliet/-'  in  which  he  speaks  of 
evening  mass ;  for  the' humblest  member  of  that  church  knows 
that  there  is  no  mass  at  vespers/''  A  mistake  which,  I  admit, 
that  Bacon  with  his  learning  could  not  possibly  have  made; 
though  Shakespeare  might  have  done  so ;  as  it  is  doubtful  if  he 
ever  heard  mass  performed  either  at  Stratford  or  in  London. 

Reserving  this  point  to  be  treated  of  in  the  next  chapter,  I 
herewith  append  the  full  confession  of  the  "  Confession  of  Faith  " 
of  John  Shakespeare  previously  referred  to.7 

6  In  the  famous  scene  between  the  Ghost  and  Hamlet  there  are  many 
strokes  of  a  Eoman  Catholic  pen.     "  Shakespeare,  apparently  through  igno- 
rance," says  Warburton,  "  makes  Eoman  Catholics  of  these  Pagan  Danes  " 
(Steevens'  Shak.,  1793,  vol.  xv.  pp.  72 — 75).     But  this  is  not  so  much  an 
example  of  ignorance  as  of  knowledge,  though  perhaps  not  of  his  prudence, 
when  the  poet  avows,  covertly  indeed,  his  own  opinions.  In  "  Othello,"  Shake- 
speare makes  Emilia  say,  "  I  should  venture  purgatory  for't."     The  readers 
of  Shakespeare  will  easily  remember  other  expressions  of  a  similar  kind, 
which  plainly  proceeded  from  the  overflow  of  Eoman  Catholic  zeal.     He  is 
continually  sending  his  characters  to  shrift,  or  confession  :  "  Eiddling  con- 
fession finds  but  riddling  shrift ;  "  "  Bid  her  devise  some  means  to  come  to 
shrift  this  afternoon."     On  the  other  hand  he  is  studious  to  show  his  con- 
tempt for  the  Puritans.    In  "  Twelfth  Night "  :  "  Many,  sir,  he  seems  some- 
times a  kind  of  Puritan."    In  "  The  Winter's  Tale  " :  "  But  one  Puritan  among 
them,  and  he  sings  psalms  to  hornpipers." — Chalmers's  "  Apology,"  p.  200. 

7  "JOHN  SHAKESPEAEE'S  CONFESSION  OF  FAITH:— 

Section  I. 

"  '  In  the  name  of  God,  the  Father,  Sonne,  and  Holy  Ghost,  the  most  holy 
and  blessed  Virgin  Mary,  Mother  of  God,  the  holy  host  of  archangels,  angels, 
patriarchs,  prophets,  evangelists,  apostles,  saints',  martyrs,  and  all  the  celestial 
court  and  company  of  heaven :  I,  John  Shakspear,  an  unworthy  member  of 
the  holy  Catholic  religion,  being  at  this,  my  present  writing,  in  perfect 
health  of  body,  and  sound  mind,  memory,  and  understanding,  but  calling  to 
mind  the  uncertainty  of  life  and  certainty  of  death,  and  that  I  may  be 
possibly  cut  off  in  the  blossoine  of  my  sins,  and  called  to  render  an  account 


44     Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

of  all  my  transgressions  externally  and  internally,  and  that  I  may  be  unpre- 
pared for  the  dreadful  trial  either  by  sacrement,  pennance,  fasting,  or  prayer, 
or  any  other  purgation  whatever,  do  in  the  holy  presence  above  specified,  of 
my  own  free  and  voluntary  accord,  make  and  ordaine  this,  my  last  spiritual 
will,  testament,  confession,  protestation,  and  confession  of  faith,  hopinge 
hereby  to  receive  pardon  for  all  my  sinnes  and  offences,  and  thereby  to  be 
made  partaker  of  life  everlasting,  through  the  only  merits  of  Jesus  Christ, 
my  saviour  and  redeemer,  who  took  upon  himself  the  likeness  of  man, 
suffered  death,  and  was  crucified  upon  the  crosse,  for  the  redemption  of 
sinners. 

[Here  follow  the  remaining  sections,  down  to  Section  XIII.  inclusive^] 
Section  XIV.,  and  last. 

" '  I,  John  Shakspeare,  having  made  this  present  writing  of  protestation, 
confession,  and  charter,  in  presence  of  the  blessed  Virgin  Mary,  my  angell 
guardian,  and  all  the  celestial  court,  as  witnesses  hereunto :  the  which  my 
meaning  is,  that  it  be  of  full  value  now,  presently,  and  for  ever,  with  the 
force  and  vertue  of  testament,  codicil,  and  donation  in  course  of  death  :  con- 
firming it  anew,  being  in  perfect  health  of  soul  and  body,  and  signed  with 
mine  own  hand  ;  carrying  also  the  same  about  me,  and  for  the  better  declara- 
ration  hereof,  my  will  and  intention  is  that  it  be  finally  buried  with  me  after 
my  death. 

"  '  Pater  noster,  Ave  Maria,  Credo. 

Jesu,  son  of  David,  have  mercy  on  me.     Amen.'  " 

"  If  the  intention  of  the  testator,  as  expressed  in  the  close  of  this  will,  were 
carried  into  effect,  then  of  course  the  manuscript  which  Mosely  found  must 
necessarily  have  been  a  copy  of  that  which  was  buried  in  the  grave  of  John 
Shakespeare. 

"  Mr.  Malone,  to  whom,  in  his  edition  of  Shakespeare,  printed  in  1790,  we 
are  indebted  for  this  singular  paper,  and  for  the  history  attached  to  it 
observes,  that  he  is  unable  to  ascertain  whether  it  was  drawn  up  by  John 
Shakespeare,  the  father,  or  by  John,  his  supposed  eldest  son :  but  he  says,  '  I 
have  taken  some  pains  to  ascertain  the  authenticity  of  this  manuscript,  and, 
after  a  very  careful  inquiry,  am  perfectly  satisfied  that  it  is  genuine/  In  the 
'  Inquiry,'  however,  which  was  published  in  1796,  relative  to  the  Ireland 
papers,  he  has  given  us,  though  without  assigning  any  reasons  for  his  change 
of  opinion,  a  very  different  result.  'In  my  conjecture,'  he  remarks,  'con- 
cerning the  writer  of  that  paper,  I  certainly  was  mistaken :  for  I  have  since 
obtained  documents  that  clearly  prove  it  could  not  have  been  the  composition 
of  any  one  of  our  poet's  family.' 

"  This  conjecture  of  Mr.  Chalmers  appears  to  us  in  its  leading  points  very 
plausible ;  for  that  the  father  of  our  poet  might  be  a  Roman  Catholic,  is,  if 
we  consider  the  very  unsettled  state  of  his  times  with  regard  to  religion,  not 
only  a  possible,  but  a  probable  supposition,  in  which  case  it  would  undoubtedly 
have  been  the  office  of  the  spiritual  director  of  the  family  to  have  drawn  up 
such  a  paper  as  that  which  we  have  been  perusing.  It  was  the  fashion  also 
of  the  period,  as  Mr.  Chalmers  has  subsequently  observed,  to  draw  up  confes- 
sions of  religious  faith,  a  fashion  honoured  in  the  observance  by  the  great 


The  Religion  of  the  Shakespeare  Family.         45 

names  of  Lord  Bacon,  Lord  Burghley,  and  Archbishop  Parker.  That  he 
declined,  however,  attending  the  corporation  meeting  of  Stratford  from 
religious  motives,  and  that  his  removal  from  that  body  was  the  result  of 
non-attendance  from  such  a  cause,  cannot  readily  be  admitted ;  for  we  have 
clearly  seen  that  his  defection  was  owing  to  pecuniary  difficulties ;  nor  is  it  in 
the  least  degree  probable  that,  after  having  honourably  filled -the  highest 
offices  in  the  corporation  without  scruple,  he  should  at  length,  and  in  a  reign 
too  popularly  Protestant,  incur  expulsion  from  an  avowed  motive  of  this  kind, 
especially,  as  we  have  reason  to  suppose,  from  the  mode  in  which  this  profes- 
sion was  concealed,  that  the  tenets  of  the  person  whose  faith  it  declares  were 
cherished  in  secret. 

"  From  an  accurate  inspection  of  the  handwriting  of  this  will,  Mr.  Malone 
infers  that  it  cannot  be  attributed  to  an  earlier  period  than  the  year  1600, 
whence  it  follows  that  if  dictated  by,  or  drawn  up  at  the  desire  of,  John 
Shakespeare,  his  death  soon  sealed  the  confession  of  his  faith ;  for,  according 
to  the  register,  he  was  buried  on  September  8,  1601." — Drake,  vol.  i.  pp. 


46     Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

EVENING   MASS. 

AT  the  conclusion  of  the  last  chapter  we  found  ourselves  con- 
fronted with  the  apparent  difficulty  of  Shakespeare's  alleged 
erroneous  use  of  the  word  evening  mass,  and  in  pursuing  the 
inquiry  upon  this  point  we  have  White's  view  supported  by 
similar  observations  from  H.  von  Friesen  in  his  "Alt-England  und 
William  Shakespeare"  (1874),  pp.  286-7,  and  also  by  Staunton, 
who,  says  Dowden,  "  had  previously  noticed  the  same  difficulty ." 
But  the  word  mass,  continues  Dowden,  as  used  in  the  passage 
from  "  Romeo  and  Juliet/'  is  explained  by  Clarke  as  meaning 
generally  service,  office,  prayer.1 

I  do  not  find  this  explanation  satisfactory,  however;  neither 
can  I  assign  great  importance  to  the  opinion  of  Harness  and 
others,  that  it  was  probably  a  printer's  error,  or  at  any  rate  not 
an  error  of  Shakespeare's  own,  since  it  is  well  known  that  he 
had  never  superintended  the  publication  of  a  single  copy  of  his 
plays,  and  that  some  of  the  first  copies  "  appeared  to  have  been 
taken  by  the  ear,  during  representation,  without  any  assistance 
from  the  originals  -belonging  to  the  play-houses."  Hence,  they 
conclude,  that  such  a  mistake  might  have  easily  crept  in,  through 
the  ignorance  of  a  copyist  or  printer.  "  Hundreds  of  spurious 
lines,"  says  one  of  these  reasoners,  "  have  thus  been  insinuated 
in  Shakespeare's  text ;  and  it  is  known  that  no  complete  collec- 
tion of  his  plays  was  published  until  seven  years  after  his  death." 

This  is  very  plausible,  but  it  must  be  recollected  that  "  Romeo 
and  Juliet "  was  published  during  the  poet's  lifetime,  as  early 
as  1597;  and  I  cannot,  therefore,  bring  myself  to  believe  that 
Shakespeare  could  have  permitted  himself  to  be  indifferent  to 
such  an  error,  had  he  believed  it  to  have  been  an  error. 
1  Dowden's  "  Shakespeare's  Mind  and  Art,"  1875,  p.  39. 


Evening  Mass.  47 

The  greatest  probability  is  that  he  had  never  heard  mass 
otherwise  than  secretly,  and  in  the  evening;  except,  indeed, 
during  some  transient  trip  to  Paris  (if  he  had  ever  found  ,time 
during  his  busy  London  life  to  make  one) ;  and  even  then  it  is 
doubtful  if  he  would  have  spent  any  of  his  precious  holiday 
hours  at  church.  His  general  knowledge  of  the  doctrines, 
dogmas,  tenets,  rites  and  formula  of  the  Church  of  Rome  might 
have  been  obtained  from  his  mother,  or  from  the  carefully-hidden 
Prayer-book  of  the  family ;  while  his  entire  comprehension  of  the 
ceremony  of  mass  was  probably  obtained  from  the  hedge  priests 
whom  the  devoted  piety  of  his  mother  gave  stealthy  admission 
to  the  Shakespeare  homestead,  during  the  Elizabethan  period 
of  Catholic  persecution.  I  have  found  many  illustrations  from 
Catholic  reviews,  and  other  reliable  authorities,  of  the  practices 
of  the  hedge  priests,  as  they  were  called,  in  times  of  Catholic 
persecution,  whose  business  it  was  to  go  in  the  darkness  of  the 
evening  to  the  houses  of  the  faithful,  to  celebrate  a  nocturnal 
mass.  This  was  probably  the  case  with  Shakespeare's  paternal 
home  and  family,  and  "  evening  mass "  was  doubtless  the  only 
mass  our  poet  ever  heard.2 

In  regard  to  mass  in  general,  authoritative  Romish  works 
indicate  that  the  main  reason  why  it  is  fixed  as  a  morning 
ceremony,  is  because  owing  to  the  extraordinary  sanctity  which 
Catholics  attach  to  the  consecrated  elements  (believing  them  as 
they  do  to  be  transubstantiated  into  the  real  body  and  blood  of 
Christ),  the  early  Popes  deemed  it  irreverent  on  the  part  of  the 
clergy  and  faithful  to  partake  of  them  after  a  meal  of  a  material 
kind.  It  would  also  seem,  from  the  works  of  the  most  learned 
Catholic  divines,  that  mass  was  said  during  that  period  of 
church  history  called  "  History  of  the  Catacombs  "  at  night ;  and 

2  "  In  the  darkest  days  of  the  penal  code,  when  learning  was  proscribed  in 
Ireland,  and  when  it  was  treason  for  the  Catholic  Celt  to  teach  or  be  taught, 
to  receive  or  communicate  instruction,  the  hedge  schoolmaster  braved  the 
terrors  of  the  law,  eluded  the  vigilance  of  spies,  and  kept  the  lamp  of  know- 
ledge still  burning  in  darkness,  storm,  and  desolation.  If  we  cherish  the 
memory  of  the  Soggarth  Aroon,  who  often  at  dead  of  night  fled  to  the  moun- 
tain cave,  the  wooded  glen,  and  wild  rath  to  celebrate  mass  for  the  faithful 
and  persecuted  flock,  and,  like  the  Hebrew  priests  of  old,  to  preserve  the  sacred 
fire  till  the  dawn  of  a  happier  era,  when  the  sun  of  freedom  would  kindle  it 
into  a  blaze." — "  Paper  on  Bishop  England,"  by  Professor  Mulrenan  ;  pub- 
lished in  New  York  in  the  Manhattan  Monthly  for  March,  1875. 


48     Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

indeed,  in  the  Apostolic  age  it  was  undoubtedly  a  nocturnal 
service,  since  it  is  in  reality  only  a  commemoration  of  the  Last 
Supper.  According  to  the  best  authorities,  it  was  Pope  St. 
Telesphorus,  A.D.  128,  who  ordered  this  service  to  be  said  in  the 
morning  at  tierce,  or  at  nine  o'clock.  This  Pope  likewise  de- 
creed that  on  Christmas  eve  a  mass  might  be  celebrated  at 
twelve  o'clock  at  night  in  honour  of  the  Nativity,  and  he  added 
to  the  missal  the  noble  hymn  of  praise,  Gloria  in  Excelsis.  Still, 
even  after  the  publication  of  this  decree,  masses  were  said, 
during  periods  of  persecution,  in  the  vaults  and  chapels  of  the 
catacombs  quite  late  at  night.  Once  the  church  emerged  thence 
into  broad  day-light,  this  practice  ceased,  and  the  decree  of  Pope 
Telesphorus  was  obeyed  to  the  letter. 

During  the  middle  ages  even  Catholic  historians  confess  that 
many  abuses  crept  into  their  Church,  and  it  would  seem  that 
there  were  many  gross  ones  concerning  even  the  solemn  rite  of 
mass.  The  custom  of  saying  mass  for  the  dead  was  doubtless 
one  of  the  principal  causes  of  this  deplorable  state  of  affairs ;  for, 
as  is  well  known,  persons  of  rank  and  wealth  would  often  leave  in 
their  wills  large  sums  of  money  to  the  priests,  in  order  to  defray 
the  expenses  of  a  number  of  masses  to  be  said  for  the  repose  of 
their  souls,  and  of  those  of  their  relations  and  friends.  To  rid 
themselves  of  the  obligation  of  celebrating  so  many  masses,  the 
dissolute  and  conscienceless  amongst  the  clergy  would  even  run 
one  mass  into  another,  or  say  as  many  as  three  and  four  in  a 
morning,  without  leave  from  their  ecclesiastical  superiors.3 
They  likewise  invented  a  service  called  the  Missa  Sicca,  which 
was  generally  said  for  the  repose  of  the  dead.  It  consisted  of  the 
recitation  of  the  first  part  of  mass,  or  Introit,  and  was  a  "  dry 
mass,"  since  none  of  the  liquids  were  introduced  into  it ;  for,  as 
already  stated,  the  act  of  consecration  did  not  take  place.  It 
was,  however,  called  a  mass,  and  was  celebrated  most  frequently 
in  the  afternoon.  The  Council  of  Trent  abolished  it  as  a  gross 
abuse,  since  ifc  had  occasioned  much  scandal.  It  sprang  into  ex- 
istence towards  the  eleventh  century,  and  continued  down  to  the 
close  of  the  sixteenth.  It  was  an  invention  doubtless  of  some 
unworthy  clergymen,  in  order  to  free  themselves  of  a  portion 
of  the  numerous  masses  they  were  paid  to  say  for  the  dead.  It 

3  See  Appleton's  "  Encyclopaedia,"  1875,  Father  O'Reilly's  article  on  the 
Mass. 


Evening  Mass.  49 

could  be  said  at  any  time,  and  as  often  as  they  chose,  and  hence 
they  could  naturally  rid  themselves  of  their  responsibility  at  a 
very  short  notice ;  moreover,  as  they  could  only  solemnize  one 
genuine  mass  a  day,  without  running  the  risk  of  being  suspended 
by  their  bishops,  they  could  say  twenty  of  these  mutilated 
services,  and  count  them  to  their  purchasers  as  regular  work. 
It  is  not  improbable,  besides,  that  this  Missa  Sicca  was  known  to 
the  common  people  before  the  Reformation  as  "  evening  mass.1" 
For  in  Ivanhoe,  Sir  Walter  Scott  says  that  Rowena  arrived  late 
at  the  banquet,  as  she  had  o'nly  just  returned  from  attending 
"  evening  mass  "  at  a  neighbouring  priory.  It  seems  to  me 
that  Scott,  who  was  exceedingly  well  versed  in  all  things  con- 
cerning the  history  and  rites  of  the  Catholic  Church,  would  not 
have  made  this  statement  unless  he  had  good  authority  for  so 
doing.4  Shakespeare  may  have  heard  of  the  Missa  Sicca  as  an 
evening  service,  and  thus  alluded  to  it  in  this  play ;  and  it  may 
as  well  here  be  observed  that  the  monastery  to  which  Friar 
Laurence  belonged  was  a  Franciscan  house,  which  order  was, 
and  is  still,  remarkable — to  use  the  Catholic  phraseology5 —  "  for 
its  devotion  to  the  dead  and  to  the  souls  in  purgatory ;"  in  other 
words,  for  its  popularity  in  praying  and  saying  masses  for  the 
departed.  Another  explanation  of  this  much  disputed  phrase, 
"  evening  mass/'  may  also  be  gathered  from  the  fact  that  in 
Catholic  countries,  to  this  day,  the  fashionable  mass  is  the  last ; 
said  often  at  one,  and  even  at  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 
In  the  sixteenth  century,  one  or  two  o'clock  in  the  day  was 
already  a  late  hour,  for  people  rose  at  five,  breakfasted  at  six, 
dined  between  ten  and  eleven,  and  had  supper  at  seven  in  the 
evening ;  thus  closing  the  day  at  an  hour  when  modern  "  society  " 
is  most  occupied.  Shakespeare  may  have  considered  the  last,  or 
one  o'clock  mass,  "  an  evening  mass ;"  and  this  is  not  so  im- 
probable, since  the  text  leads  us  to  understand  that  Juliet  de- 
signs to  wait  upon  him  in  his  cell  alone,  which  she  could 
not  have  done  under  the  circumstances  of  the  play,  as  a  young 

4  On  the  other  hand,  by  way  of  showing  the  habitual  licence  of  poets,  we 
will  direct  the  attention  of  the  reader  to  the  following  lines  from  the  exquisite 
poem  of  "  Under  the  Violets,"  by  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  : — 
"  The  crickets,  sliding  through  the  grass, 

Shall  pipe  for  her  an  evening  mass." 
8  "  History  of  the  Franciscans."     Albany,  Baxter  and  Co. 


5<3    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

girl  of  her  age  would  certainly  not  have  been  allowed  out  alone 
at  midnight. 

There  is  another  piece  of  textual  testimony  which  the  Pro- 
testant biographers  of  Shakespeare  refer  to,  in  order  to  resist  the 
theory  that  he  was  of  the  Roman  Catholic  faith.  It  is  put  for- 
ward in  its  most  prominent  form  by  Charles  Knight,  who,  com- 
batting the  inferences  of  Chalmers  and  Drake  in  favour  of 
Shakespeare's  Romanism  as  evinced  in  his  frequent  references  to 
"  purgatory/'  "  shrift/'  "  confession/'  &c.,  in  his  dramas,  says, 
"  Surely  the  poet  might  exhibit*  this  familiarity  with  the  an- 
cient language  of  all  Christendom  without  thus  speaking  from 
the  overflow  of  Roman  Catholic  zeal."  Was  it  "  Roman  Catho- 
lic zeal  "  which  induced  him  to  write  those  strong  lines  in  "  King 
John  "  against  the  "  Italian  priest,"  and  against  those  who 
"  Purchase  corrupted  pardon  of  a  man  "? 

Was  it  "  Roman  Catholic  zeal "  which  made  him  introduce 
these  words  into  the  famous  prophecy  of  the  glory  and  happiness 
of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth : — 

"  God  shall  be  truly  known  "? 

The  first  of  the  quotations  by  Knight  looks  very  formidable ; 
and  when  I  read  the  above  artificial  presentation  of  it  I  fancied 
I  had  run  against  an  insurmountable  obstacle  to  the  theory 
that  Shakespeare  was  a  Roman  Catholic.  But  turning  to  the 
fountain  of  the  phrase  in  the  body  of  the  text,  I  found  that  the 
quotation  had  been  warped  from  its  true  meaning  by  the  critic, 
and  made,  by  a  few  accompanying  words,  to  present  a  proposi- 
tion which  was  not  the  author's.  No  one  could  read  Knight's  pre- 
sentation of  the  quotation,  along  with  his  unwarranted  words, 
without  supposing  it  was  launched  not  only  against  the  one 
person  addressed,  but  against  all  "  those  who  purchased  '  cor- 
rupted '  pardon  of  a  man,"  or  without  coming  to  the  conclusion 
that  Shakespeare  meant  to  deride  and  reject  the  sanctity  of  that 
vital  principle  of  the  Roman  Catholic  faith,  the  rite  of  con- 
fession— and  the  consequent  prerogatives  of  punishment  and  ab- 
solution !  And  I  readily  admit  that  no  Roman  Catholic  writer 
could  ever  have  permitted  himself  to  do  this  under  any  pressure 
of  poetical  necessity.  But  William  Shakespeare  never  did  it — 
never  in  the  plays  ascribed  to  him,  at  least. 

The  line  above  quoted  by  Knight  against  Shakespeare's  Catho- 


Religion  of  Shakespeare.  5 1 

licity  is  addressed  by  King  John  to  King  Philip  Augustus  of 
France,  and  applies  to  Pandulph,  the  Legate  of  the  Pope,  who 
had  then  recently  been  despatched  from  Rome  to  England,  to 
demand  of  King  John  the  immediate  appointment  of  Stephen 
Langton,  the  Pope's  nominee,  to  the  archbishopric  of  Canterbury 
on  pain  of  excommunication  ;  and  also  to  interrogate  him  (King 
John)  why  he  had  thus  far  been  contumacious  to  the  supreme 
orders  of  his  Holiness  in  this  respect.  Pandulph,  in  pursuance 
of  this  insolent  commission,  finds  John  in  France,  at  the  head  of 
an  English  army  of  invasion,  confronting  a  like  array  of  the 
French  legions  under  the  command  of  Philip.  Seizing  the 
opportunity  thus  afforded  him  of  making  his  insolence  the  more 
conspicuous,  Pandulph,  in  the  presence  of  the  two  kings,  sur- 
rounded by  their  respective  nobles,  delivers  his  arrogant  message. 
The  English  king  is  naturally  roused  to  anger  and  resistance  by 
this  insult,  whereupon  Shakespeare,  through  the  mouth  of  John, 
treats  the  prelate  in  the  political  attitude  he  had  assumed,  and 
makes  John  speak  with  the  spirit  and  dignity  which  became  an 
English  king.  The  practice  of  "  fitting  "  his  characters,  is  in- 
variable with  our  poet,  and  is  also  in  full  accordance  with  dramatic 
rules  and  common  sense.  It  is  in  agreement,  likewise,  with  the 
practice  of  other  Roman  Catholic  writers,  as  may  be  seen  in  the 
treatment  given  by  Dumas  to  the  Cardinals  Mazarin  and 
Richelieu.  When  the  churchman  sinks  his  profession  in  the 
character  of  an  ambassador,  he  is  dealt  with  as  a  politician ;  and 
when  a  king  (whom,  as  a  king,  Shakespeare  always  worships 
upon  bended  knees)  abandons  himself  to  crime  and  despotism,  he  is 
always,  as  in  the  case  of  Richard  III.  and  of  John  also,  treated  as  a 
tyrant  and  a  murderer.  In  these  crimes  the  assassin  sinks  the 
king ;  as  the  primate,  by  his  ambition,  veils  the  priest.  It  was 
the  only  method  by  which  the  poet  could  protect  his  faith  from 
the  necessities  of  history,  and  consequently  the  epithets  he  uses 
through  the  mouths  of  his  incensed  characters,  as  "  false  priest " 
and  "  meddling  priest/'  are  only  such  as  are  irresistible  to  anger 
under  any  and  all  circumstances.  Shakespeare  was  too  well 
versed  in  human  nature  not  to  know  that  an  inflamed  mind  will 
always  assail  its  enemy  where  he  is  most  false,  and  consequently 
where  he  is  most  weak — always  preferring  an  accusation  of 
hypocrisy  to  any  other.  But  here  I  prefer  to  let  the  text  speak 
to  the  reader  for  itself : — 


52    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

KING  JOHN,  Act  III.  Scene  1. 

France—  tlie  French  King's  tent.  Present — King  John,  King  Philip, 
Archduke  of  Austria,  Faulconlridge,  Lewis,  the  French  Dauphin,  Salis- 
bury, Arthur,  Constance,  Blanche,  Elinor,  and  attendants. 

Enter  PANDULPH. 

K.  PHI.     Here  comes  the  holy  legate  of  the  pope. 

PAND.        Hail,  you  anointed  deputies  of  Heaven  ! 
To  thee,  king  John,  my  holy  errand  is, 
I  Pandulph,  of  fair  Milan  cardinal, 
And  from  pope  Innocent  the  legate  here, 
Do,  in  his  name,  religiously  demand, 
Why  thou  against  the  church,  our  holy  mother, 
So  wilfully  dost  spurn ;  and,  force  perforce, 
Keep  Stephen  Langton,  chosen  archbishop 
Of  Canterbury,  from  that  holy  see  ? 
This,  in  our  'foresaid  holy  father's  name, 
Pope  Innocent,  I  do  demand  of  thee. 

K.  JOHN.  What  earthly  name  to  interrogatories 

Can  task  the  free  breath  of  a  sacred  king  ? 

Thou  canst  not,  cardinal,  devise  a  name 

So  slight,  unworthy,  and  ridiculous, 

To  charge  me  to  an  answer,  as  the  pope. 

Tell  him  this  tale;  and  from  the  mouth  of  England 

Add  thus  much  more, — That  no  Italian  priest 

Shall  tithe  or  toll  in  our  dominions  ; 

But  as  we  under  heaven  are  supreme  head, 

So,  under  Him,  that  great  supremacy 

Where  we  do  reign,  we  will  alone  uphold 

Without  the  assistance  of  a  mortal  hand ; 

So  tell  the  pope ;  all  reverence  set  apart, 

To  him,  and  his  usurp'd  authority. 

K.  PHI.      Brother  of  England,  you  blaspheme  in  this. 

K.  JOHN.  Though  you,  and  all  the  kings  of  Christendom, 
Are  led  so  grossly  by  this  meddling  priest, 
Dreading  the  curse  that  money  may  buy  out ; 
And  by  the  merit  of  vile  gold,  dross,  dust, 
Purchase  corrupted  pardon  of  a  man, 
Who,  in  that  sale,  sells  pardon  from  himself; 
Though  you,  and  all  the  rest,  so  grossly  led, 
This  juggling  witchcraft  with  revenue  cherish  ; 
Yet  I,  alone,  alone  do  me  oppose 
Against  the  Pope,  and  count  his  friends  my  foes. 

PAND.         Then  by  the  lawful  power  that  I  have, 

Thou  shalt  stand  cursed,  and  excommunicate : 
And  blessed  shall  he  be  that  doth  revolt 
From  his  allegiance  to  an  heretic : 


Religion  of  Shakespeare.  53 

And  meritorious  shall  that  hand  le  call'd, 
Canonized,  and  worshipped  as  a  saint, 

That  takes  aivay  by  any  secret  course 

Thy  hateful  life. 

****** 
Philip  of  France,  on  peril  of  a  curse, 

Let  go  the  hand  of  that  arch-heretic ; 

And  raise  the  power  of  France  upon  his  head, 

Unless  he  do  submit  himself  to  Eome. 

****** 
K.  PHI.      My  reverend  father,  let  it  not  be  so : 

Out  of  your  grace,  devise,  ordain,  impose 

Some  gentle  order ;  and  then  we  shall  be  bless'd 

To  do  your  pleasure,  and  continue  friends. 
PAND.        All  form  is  formless,  order  orderless, 

Save  what  is  opposite  to  England's  love. 

Therefore,  to  arms,  be  champion  of  our  church ! 

Or  let  the  church,  our  mother,  breathe  her  curse, 

A  mother's  curse,  on  her  revolting  son. 

France,  thou  may'st  hold  a  serpent  by  the  tongue, 

A  chafed  lion  by  the  mortal  paw, 

A  fasting  tiger  safer  by  the  tooth, 

Than  keep,  in  peace,  that  hand  which  thou  dost  hold. 

****** 
LEW.          I  muse,  your  majesty  doth  seem  so  cold, 

When  such  profound  respects  do  pull  you  on. 
PAND.        I  will  denounce  a  curse  upon  his  head. 
K.  PHI.     Thou  shalt  not  need :— England,  I'll  fall  from  thee. 
K.  JOHN.  France,  thou  shalt  rue  this  hour  within  this  hour. 

In  the  light  of  these  quotations  it  becomes  obvious  that 
Knight's  presentation  of  the  first  italicized  line,  with  its  in- 
ferential words,  had  the  object  of  making  it  appear  that 
Shakespeare  was  deriding  and  mocking  at  the  sanctity  of  the  rite 
of  confession  ;  and  this  plain  perversion  of  the  author's  meaning 
was,  consequently,  not  only  an  abuse  of  the  truth,  but  an  insult, 
by  Mr.  Knight,  to  the  understanding  of  his  readers.  \  The  whole 
scene  represents  no  independent  sentiment  of  Shakespeare  as  a 
writer,  any  more  than  does  the  language  of  John,  when  he  orders 
Hubert  to  commit  murder  upon  Arthur,  represent  Shakespeare's 
sentiments ;  or  than  the  words  of  Richard  III.  represent  the  poet's 
principles,  when  Richard  directs  the  assassination  of  the  Princes  in 
the  Tower.  Bat  we  can  perceive  by  the  course  of  the  play  of  King 
John,  where  the  poet  does  step  in  and  takes  sides ;  and,  when  he 
does  make  his  individual  inclinations  thus  seen,  he  decides  most 
5 


54    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

signally  in  favour  of  the  Prelate  and  the  Church.  He  shows 
that  John,  on  the  contrary,  with  all  his  resolution  and  surround- 
ings, cannot  withstand  its  power,  but  surrenders  to  it,  humbles 
himself  abjectly  before  the  Legate,  and  is  finally  consigned  to 
an  ignominious  death.  In  the  scene  immediately  following  the 
above,  we  find  King  John,  while  still  in  the  height  of  his 
resentment,  giving  an  order  to  his  creature,  Faulconbridge,  to 
hasten  to  England,  and  ransack  and  plunder  the  monasteries  : — 

KING  JOHN  (to  the  Bastard], 

Cousin,  away  to  England  ;  haste  before ; 
And,  ere  our  coming,  see  thou  shake  the  bags 
Of  hoarding  abbots ;  imprisoned  angels 
Set  at  liberty :  the  fat  ribs  of  peace 
Must  by  the  hungry  now  be  fed  upon : 
Use  our  commission  in  his  utmost  force  ! 
BASTARD.  Bell,  book,  and  candle  shall  not  drive  me  back, 
"When  gold  and  silver  becks  me 'to  come  on. 

At  the  opening  of  Act  V.  we  find  that  King  John,  unable  to 
contend  any  longer,  even  in  his  own  dominions,  against  the  power 
of  the  Pope,  makes  absolute  submission  and  resigns  his  crown,  in 
order  that  he  may  undergo  the  utter  humiliation  of  receiving  it 
back  from  his  haughty  hands  and  of  holding  it  subject  to  his 
breath : — 

Act'V. — A  Room  in  the  Palace. 
Enter  KING  JOHN,  PANDULPH  with  the  crown,  and  attendants. 

K.  JOHN.  Thus  have  I  yielded  up  into  you  hand 

The  circle  of  my  glory. 
PAND.  Take  again  [Giving  JOHN  the  crown. 

From  this  my  hand,  as  holding  of  the  pope, 

Your  sovereign  greatness  and  authority. 
K.  JOHN.  Now  keep  your  holy  word :  go  meet  the  French  : 

And  from  his  holiness  use  all  your  power 

To  stop  their  marches,  'fore  we  are  inflamed. 

Our  discontented  counties  do  revolt ; 

Our  people  quarrel  with  obedience 

Swearing  allegiance,  and  the  love  of  soul, 

To  stranger  blood,  to  foreign  royalty. 

This  inundation  of  mistemper'd  humour 

Rests  by  you  only  to  be  qualified. 

Then  pause  not ;  for  the  present  time's  so  sick, 

That  present  medicine  must  be  minister 'd, 

Or  overthrow  incurable  ensues. 


Religion  of  Shakespeare.  55 

PAND.         It  was  my  breath  that  blew  this  tempest  up, 
Upon  your  stubborn  usage  of  the  pope  : 
But,  since  you  are  a  gentle  convertite, 
My  tongue  shall  hush  again  this  storm  of  war, 
And  make  fair  weather  in  your  blustering  land. 
On  this  Ascension-day,  remember  well, 
Upon  your  oath  of  service  to  the  pope, 
Go  I  to  make  the  French  lay  down  their  arms. 

Here  the  Pope's  Leg-ate  finishes  with  John.  Now  let  us  see 
what  luck  the  poet  assigns  to  Pandulph,  in  his  assumptions  of 
Papal  supremacy  over  the  King-  of  France.  Carrying  out  his  con- 
tract with  King  John,  Pandulph  next  appears  before  the  French 
forces,  which,  under  the  charge  of  Lewis  the  Dauphin,  have  in- 
vaded England,  and  are  lying  in  camp  near  St.  Edmunds- 
Bury  : — 

Act  V.  Scene  2. 
"Present — LEWIS,  the  DAUPHIN,  SALISBURY,  MELUN,  PEMBROKE,  BIGOT, 

and  Soldiers. 
Enter  PANDULPH,  attended. 

LEW.          And  even  there,  methinks,  an  angel  spake ; 
Look,  where  the  holy  legate  comes  apace, 
To  give  us  warrant  from  the  hand  of  heaven ; 
And  on  our  actions  set  the  name  of  right,   " 
With  holy  breath. 

PAND.  Hail,  noble  prince  of  France ; 

The  next  is  this — King  John  hath  reconcil'd 
Himself  to  Rome :  his  spirit  is  come  in, 
That  so  stood  out  against  the  holy  church, 
The  great  metropolis  and  see  of  Rome ; 
Therefore,  thy  threat 'ning  colours  now  wind  up, 
And  tame  the  savage  spirit  of  wild  war ; 
That,  like  a  lion  foster 'd  up  at  hand, 
It  may  lie  gently  at  the  foot  of  peace, 
And  be  no  further  harmful  than  in  show. 

LEW.          Your  grace  shall  pardon  me,  I  will  not  back ; 
I  am  too  high-born  to  be  propertied, 
To  be  a  secondary  at  control, 
Or  useful  serving-man,  and  instrument, 
To  any  sovereign  state  throughout  the  world. 
Your  breath  first  kindled  the  dead  coal  of  wars 
Between  this  chastised  kingdom  and  myself, 
And  brought  in  matter  that  should  feed  this  fire  ; 
And  now  'tis  far  too  huge  to  be  blown  out 
With  that  same  weak  wind  which  enkindled  it. 


56    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

You  taught  me  how  to  know  the  face  of  right, 

Acquainted  me  with  interest  to  this  land, 

Yea,  thrust  this  enterprise  into  my  heart ; 

And  come  you  now  to  tell  me,  John  hath  made 

His  peace  with  Kome  ?     What  is  that  peace  to  me  ? 

I,  hy  the  honour  of  my  marriage-bed, 

After  young  Arthur,  claim  this  land  for  mine ; 

And,  now  it  is  half  conquer'd,  must  I  back, 

Because  that  John  hath  made  his  peace  with  Rome  ? 

Am  I  Rome's  slave  ?     What  penny  hath  Rome  borne, 

What  men  provided,  what  munition  sent, 

To  underprop  this  action  ?  is't  not  I, 

That  undergo  this  charge  ?     Who  else  but  I, 

And  such  as  to  my  claim  are  liable, 

Sweat  in  this  business,  and  maintain  this  war  ? 

Have  I  not  heard  these  islanders  shout  out, 

Vive  le  roy  I  as  I  have  bank'd  their  towns  ? 

Have  I  not  here  the  best  cards  for  the  game, 

To  win  this  easy  match  play'd  for  a  crown  ? 

And  shall  I  now  give  o'er  the  yielded  set  ? 

No,  on  my  soul,  it  never  shall  be  said. 

PAND.        You  look  but  on  the  outside  of  this  work. 

LEW.          Outside,  or  inside,  I  will  not  return 

Till  my  attempt  so  much  be  glorified -- 
As  to  my  ample  hope  was  promised 
Before  I  drew  this  gallant  head  of  war, 
And  cull'd  these  fiery  spirits  from  the  world, 
To  outlook  conquest,  and  to  win  renown 
Even  in  the  jaws  of  danger  and  of  death. 

The  Legate  then  curses  the  other  side,  whereupon  the  fight 
takes  place,  and  the  French,  as  becomes  them,  under  the  effects 
of  Pandulph's  new  anathema,  get  the  worst  of  it;  but  King 
John  is  led  from  the  field  sick  during  the  middle  of  the  melee, 
and  retires  to  Swinstead  Abbey  in  the  neighbourhood.  In  the 
following  scene  his  approaching  death  is  thus  described,  and  the 
lines  I  have  italicized  are  those  which  the  Protestant  biographers 
stoutly  rely  upon  to  show  that  Shakespeare  could  not  have  been 
a  Roman  Catholic  : — 

HUBERT.  The  king,  I  fear,  is  poisoned  l>y  a  monlc  : 
I  left  him  almost  speechless,  and  broke  out 
To  acquaint  you  with  this  evil,  that  you  might 
The  better  arm  you  to  the  sudden  time, 
Than  if  you  had  at  leisure  known  of  this. 

BASTARD.  How  did  he  take  it  ?    Who  did  taste  to  him  ? 


Religion  of  Shakespeare.  57 

HUBEET.  A  monk,  I  tell  you;  a  resolved  villain, 

Whose  bowels  suddenly  burst  out:  the  king 
Yet  speaks,  and  peradventure  may  recover. 

The  monk  who  did  this  deed  had  evidently  prepared  himself  to 
carry  out  Pandulph's  curse  of  excommunication,  and  also  to 
revenge  John's  sacrilegious  plunder  of  the  monasteries.  In  those 
days  of  the  absence  of  newspapers,  this  monk  doubtless  had  not 
been  informed  of  the  very  recent  pardon  of  John  by  Pandulph, 
and  therefore,  instead  of  being  regarded  as  "  a  resolved  villain/' 
as  Hubert,  King  John's  minion,  naturally  terms  him,  he  would 
be  esteemed  by  the  faithful,  for  this  brave  devotion  of  himself,  as 
being  worthy  rather  of  "  canonization "  (which,  indeed,  was 
promised  by  Pandulph)  and  a  high  place  "  among  the  glorious 
company  of  the  apostles  "  than  of  harsh  terms,  or  any  form 
of  condemnation  whatsoever.  That  the  monk  had  long  been 
"  resolved  "  in  his  purpose  of  poisoning  the  King  and  to  that 
extent  was  "  a  resolved  villain,  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  it 
must  have  cost  him  much  time  and  considerable  court  influence  to 
become  "  taster  "  to  his  Majesty,  as  a  preliminary  to  the  glorious 
canonization  which  he  expected,  for  carrying  out  the  orders  of  the 
Legate,  at  the  expense  of  his  own  life. 

As  to  Knight's  second  exception  to  Shakespeare's  Catholicity, 
I  deem  it  hardly  worthy  of  an  argument.  The  prophecy  made 
in  the  play  of  "  Henry  VIII.,"  that  under  the  reign  of  the  infant 
Elizabeth 

"  God  shall  he  truly  known," 

is  the  expression  of  Cranmer,  a  Protestant  prelate,  and  it  is  put 
into  his  mouth  by  the  author  during  the  reign  of  Protestant 
James  I.,  through  whose  graciousness  he  still  got  his  living  as  one 
of  "  her  Majesty's  players."  Besides,  the  expression  as  to  the 
worship  of  God  the  Father  is  as  correct,  in  a  Christian  sense,  in 
the  mouth  of  a  Koman  Catholic  as  in  that  of  a  Protestant. 
Moreover,  the  speech  of  Cranmer,  containing  the  above  line,  is 
almost  universally  attributed  to  Ben  Jonson,  who  wrote  it  in 
compliment  to  King  James. 

This  seems  to  meet  the  Protestant  arguments  based  upon  the 
text  of  "  King  John."  We  come  next  to  the  evidence  offered 
on  the  same  side  from  "  King  Henry  VI.,"  Parts  I.  and  II. 

Two    of  the   principal    characters   in   both    these   plays  are 


58    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Humphrey  Duke  of  Gloster,  brother  of  the  deceased  Henry  V., 
and  the  Duke  of  Beaufort,  who  is  Bishop  of  Winchester,  and 
subsequently  Cardinal  Beaufort.  Gloster,  who  was  brother  to 
the  deceased  Henry  V.,  is  Lord  Protector  of  the  infant  Henry  VI., 
and,  being  beloved  by  the  people,  is  popularly  known  throughout 
the  country  by  the  name  of  the  Good  Duke  Humphrey.  In  fact, 
the  original  title  of  the  latter  of  these  plays  was  "  The  Second 
Part  of  King  Henry  the  Sixth,  with  the  Death  of  the  Good 
Duke  Humphrey.-"  The  Bishop  of  Winchester,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  shown  by  all  the  histories  of  the  time  to  have  been  a 
lewd,  unprincipled,  treacherous,  conspiring,  and  bloody-minded 
villain,  as  bad  in  every  respect  as  lago,  Angelo,  or  Edmund. 
The  part  which  he  performs  is  entirely  political,  and  his  principal 
aim  is  to  supplant  the  Lord  Protector,  whom  he  finally  succeeds 
in  having  basely  murdered.  These  two  characters  come  in  con- 
flict at  the  very  outset  of  the  dramatic  history  of  "  Henry  VI." 
The  first  scene  of  their  contention  takes  place  before  the  Tower, 
into  which  the  Lord  Protector,  though  entitled  to  arbitrary 
access  to  all  public  places  in  the  realm,  finds  himself  and  his 
retainers  refused  admittance  by  the  servants  and  followers  of  the 
Bishop  of  Winchester,  who  are  in  possession.  While  Gloster  is 
clamouring  at  the  gates,  and  threatening,  by  virtue  of  his 
supreme  authority,  to  burst  them  open,  the  following  scene 
occurs  in  Act  I.  Scene  3  : — 

Enter  WINCHESTEB,  attended  by  a  train  of  Servants  in  tawny  coats. 
WIN.  How  now,  ambitious  Humphrey  ?  what  means  this  ? 
GLO.  Piel'd  priest,  dost  thou  command  me  to  be  shut  out  ? 
WIN.  I  do,  thou  most  usurping  proditor, 

And  not  protector  of  the  king  or  realm. 
GLO.  Stand  back,  thou  manifest  conspirator ; 

Thou,  that  contriv'dst  to  murder  our  dead  lord ; 

Thou,  that  giv'st  bawds  6  indulgences  to  sin : 

I'll  canvas  thee  in  thy  broad  cardinal's  hat, 

If  thou  proceed  in  this  thy  insolence. 

6  I  have  changed  this  word,  for  the  purpose  of  these  pages,  out  of  regard 
for  modern  ears.  The  curious  reader  may  consult  the  text.  The  line,  and 
the  reproach  which  it  conveys,  will  be  better  understood  when  it  is  known 
that  "  the  public  stews  in  Southwark  were  under  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
Bishop  of  Winchester.  In  the  office-book  of  the  court  all  fees  were  entered 
that  were  paid  by  the  keepers  of  these  brothels — the  church  reaping  the 
advantages  of  these  pests  to  society." 


Religion  of  Shakespeare.  59 

WIN.  Nay,  stand  thou  back,  I  will  not  "budge  a  foot : 

This  be  Damascus,  be  thou  cursed  Cain, 

To  slay  thy  brother  Abel,  if  thou  wilt. 
GLO.  I  will  not  slay  thee,  but  I'll  drive  thee  back : 

Thy  scarlet  robes,  as  a  child's  bearing  cloth 

I'll  use,  to  carry  thee  out  of  this  place. 
WIN.  Do  what  thou  dar'st :  I  beard  thee  to  thy  face. 
GLO.  What?  am  I  dar'd,  and  bearded  to  my  face  ?— 

Draw,  men,  for  all  this  privileged  place  ; 

Blue  coats  to  tawny  coats.     Priest,  beware  your  beard ; 

[GLOSTER  and  his  men  attack  the  Bishop. 

I  mean  to  tug  it,  and  to  cuff  you  soundly : 

Under  my  feet  I  stamp  thy  cardinal's  hat ; 

In  spite  of  pope,  or  dignities  of  church, 

Here  by  the  cheeks  I'll  drag  thee  up  and  down. 
WIN.  Gloster,  thou'lt  answer  this  before  the  pope. 

The  two  parties  are  here  about  falling-  upon  one  another  when 
the  Mayor  of  London  enters  with  his  officers,  and  commands  the 
peace,  whereupon  Gloster,  out  of  respect  for  the  law,  at  once  calls 
off  his  men,  and  says, — 

GLO.        Cardinal,7  I'll  be  no  breaker  of  the  law  : 

But  we  shall  meet,  and  break  our  minds  at  large. 
WIN.      Gloster,  we'll  meet ;  to  thy  dear  cost  be  sure : 

Thy  heart-blood  I  will  have,  for  this  day's  work. 
MAYOR.  I'll  call  for  clubs,  if  you  will  not  away : 

This  cardinal  is  more  haughty  than  the  devil. 
GLO.        Mayor,  farewell :  thou  dost  but  what  thou  may'st. 
WIN.       Abominable  Gloster !  guard  thy  head ; 

For  I  intend  to  have  it,  ere  long.  [Exeunt. 

In  a  subsequent  scene  Gloster  says  to  Winchester : — 

Thou  art  reverent 
Touching  thy  spiritual  function,  not  thy  life. 

Thus  showing  that  he  is  neither  a  questioner  of  Winchester's 
religion,  nor  a  heretic  himself. 

Again,  after  Winchester  has  been  created  cardinal,  he  chal- 
lenges Gloster  to  a  duel,  which  is  finally  settled  by  King  Henry. 
In  Act  III.  Scene  1,  Queen  Margaret  and  Suffolk,  her  paramour, 
plot  with  York  and  Beaufort  Gloster's  assassination,  and  thus 
the  Cardinal : — 

7  The  use  of  the  word  Cardinal  in  this  place  shows  that  Shakespeare  was 
not  always  precise  in  his  expressions.  Beaufort  at  this  time  was  only  Bishop 
of  Winchester. 


60    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

But  I  would  lay  him  dead,  my  lord  of  Suffolk, 
Ere  you  can  take  due  orders  for  a  priest : 
Say,  you  consent,  and  censure  well  the  deed, 
And  I'll  provide  bis  executioner. 

The  assassination  is  performed  in  pursuance  of  this  conspiracy, 
and  the  following-  is  the  scene  of  the  conscience-stricken  mur- 
derer's death-bed : — 

Cardinal  Beaufort's  Bedchamber. 

Enter  KING  HENEY,  SALTSBUEY,  WARWICK,  and  others.     The  CARDINAL 
in  bed ;  Attendants  with  him. 

K.  HEN.  How  fares  my  lord?  speak,  Beaufort,  to  thy  sovereign. 

CAE.         If  thou  be'st  death,  I'll  give  thee  England's  treasure, 
Enough  to  purchase  such  another  island, 
So  thou  wilt  let  me  live,  and  feel  no  pain. 

Jv.  HEN.  Ah,  what  a  sign  it  is  of  evil  life, 

When  death's  approach  is  seen  so  terrible ! 

WAE.        Beaufort,  it  is  thy  sovereign  speaks  to  thee. 

CAE.         Bring  me  unto  my  trial  when  you  will. 

Died  he  not  in  his  bed  ?  where  should  he  die  ? 
Can  I  make  men  live,  whe'r  they  will  or  no? — 
O  !  torture  me  no  more,  I  will  confess. — 
Alive  again  ?  then  show  me  where  he  is  : 
I'll  give  a  thousand  pound  to  look  upon  him. 
He  hath  no  eyes,  the  dust  hath  blinded  them. — 
Comb  down  his  hair ;  look  !  look !  it  stands  upright, 
Like  lime-twigs  set  to  catch  my  winged  soul ! — 
Give  me  some  drink  ;  and  bid  the  apothecary 
Bring  the  strong  poison  that  I  bought  of  him. 

K.  HEN.  O  thou  eternal  Mover  of  the  heavens, 

Look  with  a  gentle  eye  upon  this  wretch  ! 
O,  beat  away  the  busy  meddling  fiend, 
That  lays  strong  siege  unto  this  wretch's  soul, 
And  from  his  bosom  purge  this  black  despair ! 

WAE.       See  how  the  pangs  of  death  do  make  him  grin. 

SAL.         Disturb  him  not,  let  him  pass  peaceably. 

K.  HEN.  Peace  to  his  soul,  if  God's  good  pleasure  be ! 

Lord  cardinal,  if  thou  think'st  on  heaven's  bliss, 
Hold  up  thy  hand,  make  signal  of  thy  hope. — 
He  dies,  and  makes  no  sign  ;  0  God  forgive  him ! 

WAR.        So  bad  a  death  argues  a  monstrous  life. 

IL  HEN.  Forbear  to  judge,  for  we  are  sinners  all.— 

Close  up  his  eyes,  and  draw  the  curtains  close ; 

And  let  us  all  to  meditation.  [Exeunt. 

At  this  point  I  desire  to  call  attention  to  the  king's  use  of  the 


Religion  of  Shakespeare.  6 1 

word  "meditation,"  which  is  a  form  of  Catholic  worship,  or 
pious  practice,  prescribed  by  the  Romish  Church  for  certain 
hours.  King  Henry,  as  a  Catholic,  had  doubtless  observed  this 
devotion,  and,  of  course,  referred  to  it;  but  William  Shake- 
speare could  hardly  have  made  this  doctrinal  reference  to  it 
unless  he  had  been  a  Catholic  himself. 

By  the  foregoing  extracts  from  the  text,  it  will  be  seen  that 
the  parties  were  all  Catholics  together ;  and  the  assumption  that 
the  author,  because  he  makes  one  of  them  berate  another,  and 
reproach  him  with  misrepresenting  his  clerical  pretensions,  is, 
therefore,  not  a  Catholic,  seems  to  me  to  be  without  much  force. 
Against  this  theory  we  find  Gloster  distinctly  recognizing 
Beaufort's  faith,  though  he  reprehends  the  sinfulness  of  the 
man ;  while  King  Henry  himself,  the  leading  feature  of  whose 
character  is  devoted  piety,  consigns  the  accursed  Cardinal  to  hell. 
Had  Shakespeare  been  writing  under  the  suspicion  that  the  sin- 
cerity of  his  own  faith  might  at  some  day  be  questioned  for  the 
freedom  with  which  he  makes  Duke  Humphrey  curse  the  Car- 
dinal, he  could  not  have  provided  a  more  complete  justification  of 
his  unswerving  Romanism,  or  devised  a  more  perfect  excuse  for 
his  maledictions  of  the  Cardinal,  than  is  made  by  the  pious  king, 
when,  looking  in  vain  to  see  the  dying  wretch  hold  up  his  hand 
for  mercy  from  his  God,  he  sadly  exclaims, — 

"  He  dies,  and  makes  no  sign." 

Henry,  in  this  exclamation,  means  of  course  no  sign  of 
repentance,  without  which,  according  to  Catholic  doctrine,  no 
sinner  can  be  allowed  to  enter  heaven. 


62    Shakespeare^  from  an  American  Point  of 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SHAKESPEARE'S  CONTEMPT  FOR  PROTESTANTS. 

THE  determination  of  the  English  biographers  of  William 
Shakespeare  to  resist  the  theory  that  he  was  a  Papist,  is  actuated 
by  entirely  different  motives  from  those  which  govern  our  present 
inquiry.  Their  object  is  to  defend  to  the  Protestant  persuasion, 
the  prestige  of  a  writer  who,  in  his  influence  over  the  minds  of 
the  English  people,  is  next  in  authority  to  God,  and  who  has 
devoted  the  highest  efforts  of  his  genius  to  the  constant  inculca- 
tion of  the  most  submissive  loyalty  to  the  aristocratic  classes 
and  the  Crown. 

The  question  of  the  religious  faith  of  the  author  of  the 
Shakespeare  plays  was  of  very  trivial  importance  to  the  govern- 
ing classes  of  Great  Britain  at  the  time  when  Shakespeare 
wrote,  and,  indeed,  for  some  time  afterward.  At  the  date  of  his 
career,  the  country  had  barely  emerged  from  universal  Romanism ; 
and  the  old  faith  received  its  first  wound  under  Henry  VIII., 
who  died  only  seventeen  years  before  Shakespeare  was  born. 
The  blow  which  Henry  struck  at  the  Church,  moreover,  was 
known  to  be  one  of  politics  rather  than  of  faith.  Besides,  that 
faith,  still  suppressed  during  the  short  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  was 
revived  throughout  the  land  by  his  daughter,  Bloody  Mary,  in 
seven  years  after  his  decease,  (1553),  which  pious  princess 
enforced  its  re-establishment,  'after  trie  earnest  manner  of  her 
estimable  father,  by  a  persuasive  multiplicity  of  burnings  and 
boilings  in  oil  of  all  stubborn  Nonconformists. 

Protestantism  was  again  restored  by  Elizabeth  and  James, 
whose  reigns  covered  Shakespeare's  period.  But  no  influence 
which  he  or  any  writer  for  the  stage  then  possessed,  was  of  the 
least  importance  to  the  Government.  Churchmen  at  that  time 
were  either  politicians  or  wore  coats  of  mail,  and  conformity  was 
secured  for  the  established  faith  by  sheriffs'  officers  or  files  of 


Shakespeare's  Contempt  for  Protestants.          63 

troops.  These  were  tendencies  which  even  the  Muse  of  Shake- 
speare was  bound  to  respect,  and,  instead  of  looking  through  his 
plays  for  distinct  evidences  of  adherence  to  a  doctrine  which 
would  not  only  have  stripped  him  of  his  friends  at  court,  but  lost 
him  the  favour  of  both  the  last-named  sovereigns,  the  wonder 
should  rather  be  that,  under  such  great  temptations  to  be  politic, 
he  never  was  induced  to  allude  to  a  Protestant  without  contempt. 
Indeed,  the  only  Lutheran  he  ever  permitted  to  escape  from  the 
point  of  his  pen  without  a  stab  was  Cranmer,  who  baptized 
Queen  Elizabeth.  The  evidences  of  this  contempt  by  Shake- 
speare for  the  Protestant  persuasion  may  be  found  in  his  por- 
traiture of  Sir  Hugh  Evans,  the  Welsh  parson,  in  "  The  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor,'''  described  as  a  vain,  profane,  pragmatic, 
obscene  creature,  who  frequents  taverns,  engages  in  a  duel,  and 
enters  readily  into  a  plot  to  pervert  a  marriage  ;*  also  of  Nathaniel 
and  of  Holo femes,2  respectively  a  country  curate  and  a  Protestant 
pedagogue,  in  "  Love's  Labours  Lost/'  and  likewise  of  Sir  Oliver 
Martext3  in  "  As  You  Like  It."  All  of  these  three  are  mere 

1  See  "  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,"  Act  III.  Scene  1. 

2  "  Love's  Labours  Lost,"  Act  IV.  Scene  2  :- 

Scene— SIB  NATHANIEL,  the  CUBAT.S,  and  HOLOFEBNES. 

NATH.  Sir,  I  praise  the  Lord  for  you  ;  and  so  may  my  parishioners  ;  for 
their  sons  are  well  tutor'd.  by  you,  and  their  daughters  profit  very  greatly 
under  you :  you  are  a  good  member  of  the  commonwealth. 

HOL.  Mehercle>  if  their  sons  be  ingenious,  they  shall  want  no  instruction : 
if  their  daughters  be  capable,  I  will  put  it  to  them:  but,w>  sapit,  qui  pauca 
loquitur :  a  soul  feminine  saluteth  us. 

3  "  As  You  Like  it,"  Act  III.  Scene  2  :— 

Scene — TOUCHSTONE,  AUDEEY,  and  JAQUES. 

TOUCH.  But  be  it  as  it  may  be,  I  will  marry  thee,  and  to  that  end,  I  have 
been  with  Sir  Oliver  Martext,  the  vicar  of  the  next  village ;  who  hath  pro- 
mised to  meet  me  in  this  place  of  the  forest,  and  to  couple  us. 

Enter  SIB  OLIVEB  MAETEXT. 

Here  comes  Sir  Oliver :— Sir  Oliver  Martext,  you  are  well  met.  Will  you 
despatch  us  here  under  this  tree,  or  shall  we  go  with  you  to  your  chapel  ? 

SIB  OLIV.  Is  there  none  here  to  give  the  woman  ? 

TOUCH.  I  will  not  take  her  on  the  gift  of  any  man. 

JAQ.  And  will  you,  being  a  man  of  your  breeding,  be  married  under  a 
bush,  like  a  beggar  ?     Get  you  to  church,  and  have  a  good  priest  that  can 
what  marriage  is :  this  fellow  will  but  join  you  together  as  they 


64    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

buffoons,  while  the  "  Twelfth  Night "  is  made  to  contribute  its 
quota  of  derisive  presentation  of  Protestant  character  by  an 
illusory  drunken  parson  called  Sir  Topas;4  though  the  Roman 

join  ivainscot :  then  one  of  you  will  prove  a  shrunk  pannel,  and,  like  green 
timber,  warp,  warp. 

TOUCH.  I  am  not  in  the  mind,  but  I  were  better  to  be  married  of  him 
than  of  another ;  for  he  is  not  like  to  marry  me  well ;  and  not  being  well 
married,  it  will  be  a  good  excuse  for  me  hereafter  to  leave  my  wife.     [Aside. 
JAQ.        Go  thou  with  me,  and  let  me  counsel  thee. 
TOUCH.  Come,  sweet  Audrey, 

We  must  be  married,  or  we  must  live  in  bawdry. 
Farewell,  good  master  Oliver ! 

[Exeunt  JAQUES,  TOUCHSTONE,  and  AUDREY. 
•  •••••••• 

SIB  OLIV.  'Tis  no  matter;  ne'er  a  fantastical  knave  of  them  all  shall  flout 
me  out  of  my  calling.  [Exit. 

4  "  Twelfth  Night,"  Act  II.  Scene  3  :— 

Scene — SIE  TOBY  BELCH,  MARIA,  and  SIR  ANDBEW. 
SIB  To.  Possess  us,  possess  us  ;  tell  us  something  of  him. 
MAR.  Marry,  sir,  sometimes  he  is  a  kind  of  Puritan. 
SIB  AND.  0  if  I  thought  that,  I'd  beat  him  like  a  dog. 
SIB  To.  What,  for  being  a  Puritan  ?     Thy  exquisite  reason,  dear  knight  ? 
SIB  AND.  I  have  no  exquisite  reason  for't,  but  I  have  reason  good  enough. 
MAB.  The  devil  a  Puritan  that  he  is,  or  anything  constantly  but  a  time- 
pleaser  ;  an  affection'd  ass. 

Act  IV.  Scene  2. — SIB  TOBY  BELCH,  MARIA,  and  CLOWN  as  SIE  TOPAS, 

the  Parson. 

SIE  TOBY.  Jove  bless  thee,  master  parson. 

CLOWN  (to  Sir  Toby).  Bonos  dies,  Sir  Toby ;  for,  as  the  old  hermit  of 
Prague,  that  never  saw  pen  and  ink,  very  wittily  said  to  a  niece  of  King 
Gorboduc,  That,  that  is,  is;  so  I,  being  master  parson,  am  master  parson. 
For  what  is  that,  but  that  ?  and  is,  but  is  ? 

SIB  To.  To  him,  Sir  Topas. 

MOCK  SIE  T.  What,  hoa,  I  say — peace  in  this  prison. 

SIB  To.  The  knave  counterfeits  well :  a  good  knave. 

MAL.  (in  an  inner  chamler}.  Who  calls  there? 

CLOWN.  Sir  Topas,  the  curate,  who  comes  to  visit  Malvolio,  the  lunatic. 

MAL.  Sir  Topas,  Sir  Topas,  good  Sir  Topas,  go  to  my  lady. 

CLOWN.  Out,  hyperbolical  fiend!  how  vexest  thou  this  man?  Talkest 
thou  nothing  but  of  ladies  ? 

SIB  To.  Well  said,  master  parson. 

MAL.  Sir  Topas,  never  was  man  thus  wronged ;  good  Sir  Topas,  do  not 
think  I  am  mad ;  they  have  laid  me  here  in  hideous  darkness. 

CLOWN.  Fye,  thou  dishonest  Sathan !     I  call  thee  by  the  most  modest 


Political  Utilization  of  Shakespeare.  65 

Catholic  priest  of  the  same  play  is  most  respectfully  alluded  to. 
In  this  reverent  tone  Shakespeare  treats  all  his  Romish  clergy- 
men ;  so  if  he  were  really  a  Protestant,  as  the  English  bio- 
graphers stubbornly  insist,  it  is  most  extraordinary  that,  with 
a  Protestant  court  to  write  to,  and  a  Protestant  people  to  cater 
for,  his  mind  was  never  tempted  by  the  high  motive  of  religion 
into  a  single  invocation  of  the  faith  that  filled  his  soul ! 

It  was  not  foreseen  in  Shakespeare's  time  that  his  intellectual 
supremacy  over  all  the  intellects  of  his  own  nation  would  acquire 
for  him  an  amount  of  moral  power  which  a  sagacious  govern- 
ment, whether  in  its  legal,  religious,  or  its  merely  political 
departments,  could  not  afford  to  leave  unutilized.  In  degree, 
as  coats  of  mail  were  laid  aside,  the  consent  of  the  governed 
became  an  increasing  element  in  the  control  of  the  State;  and 
then  it  was  found  that  scholarship  and  genius  were  worthy  of 
being  officially  patted  on  the  back,  as,  for  instance,  through  the 
appointment  of  poets-laureate ;  or  of  writers  cleverly  subsidized  in 
cozy  government  nooks,  with  comfortable  sinecures.  Of  all  the 
representatives  of  the  new  forces  of  civilization,  Shakespeare, 
since  his  hour,  has  uninterruptedly  remained  the  chief.  His 
progress  for  a  time  was  tardy,  but  like  the  thin  column  of 
vapour  which  slowly  curled  from  the  magician's  lamp,  his  genius 
kept  rising  and  spreading  itself  before  the  wondering  English 
people,  until  it  covered  the  whole  heaven  of  their  comprehension, 

terms ;  for  I  am  one  of  those  gentle  ones  that  will  use  the  devil  himself  with 
courtesy.     Say'st  thou  that  .house  is  dark  ? 
MIL.  As  hell,  Sir  Topas.' 

The  Same.— Scene  3. 
SEBASTIAN,  OLIVIA,  and  a  Priest. 
OLIV.    Blame  not  this  haste  of  mine  :  If  you  mean  well, 
Now  go  with  me,  and  with  this  holy  man, 
Into  the  chantry  by :  there,  before  him, 
And  underneath  that  consecrated  roof, 
Plight  me  the  full  assurance  of  your  faith ; 
That  my  most  jealous  and  too  doubtful  soul 
May  live  at  peace  :  he  shall  conceal  it, 
Whiles  you  are  willing  it  shall  come  to  note ; 
What  time  we  will  our  celebration  keep 
According  to  my  birth.— What  do  you  say  ? 
SEB.       I'll  follow  this  good  man,  and  go  with  you  ; 
And,  having  sworn  truth,  ever  will  be  true. 
Then  lead  the  way,  good  father  ; — And  heavens  so  shine, 
That  they  may  fairly  note  this  act  of  mine  !          [Exeunt. 


66     Shakespeare^from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

and  they  bowed  amazed  ly  before  it,  utterly  enraptured  by  its 
glory.  Nay,  such  is  the  service  which,  with  all  his  faults,  our 
poet  has  rendered  to  mankind,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say, 
that  were  the  two  separate  questions  put,  to  every  man  of  the 
English-speaking  race  who  can  read  and  write,  as  to  what  was 
the  greatest  benefaction  God  ever  made  to  man?  and  to  whom 
each  of  them  was  indebted  for  the  greatest  amount  of  intellectual 
pleasure  he  had  enjoyed  on  earth  ?  the  unstudied  and  immediate 
answer  would  be  Shakespeare  !  To  the  question  of  who  next  ?  the 
reply  of  the  present  generation  most  likely  would  be,  Dickens — 
true  to  his  class,  true  to  morality,  and  the  Apostle  of  the  Poor  ! 

It  is  difficult  for  Americans  who  have  never  been  in  England 
to  conceive  to  what  an  extent  religion  enters  into  the  machinery 
of  the  British  government.  In  fact,  the  Episcopal  Church  of 
England  has  not  only  one-third  of  the  actual  government  in  the 
hands  of  its  representatives  in  the  House  of  Lords,  but  it  has 
gradually  organized  itself  into  a  regular  "industry,"  which 
covers  the  land  with  swarms  of  its  dependents,  represents  accu- 
mulated salaries  and  annual  incomes  to  the  extent  of  millions 
upon  millions  of  money,  and  is,  in  every  respect,  as  much  of  an 
organized  business,  in  the  sense  of  an  industry,  as  the  industries 
of  making  boots  and  shoes,  of  the  raising  of  beeves  or  of  the  growing 
of  corn.  So  potent  is  this  Industry  of  Religion  in  the  machinery 
of  the  British  realm,  that  it  claims  one  day  out  of  every  seven, 
or  nearly  one-seventh  part  of  the  entire  year,  as  a  concession  to  its 
importance ;  and  this,  too,  to  the  subordination  of  every  interest 
else.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  therefore,  that  this  great 
Episcopal  power  will  permit  no  traffic  but  its  own,  on  what  it 
terms  the  Lord's  Day ;  that  it  will  suffer  no  doors  to  be  opened 
in  English  cities  for  the  transaction  of  business  of  any  sort, 
during  the  hours  of  service,  but  church  doors,  and  tolerate  no 
sounds  at  that  time  but  the  sound  of  church  bells.  In  every 
other  portion  of  the  civilized  world  (except  in  the  United  States, 
which  still  retains  its  tendency  for  English  opinion),  and  under 
every  form  of  religion  but  that  of  the  English  Episcopal  Church, 
Sunday  is  free,  and  The  People  enjoy  their  usual  pastimes,  even 
to  the  extent  of  going  to  the  races  or  to  the  theatres,  accompanied 
often,  as  I  have  seen  in  Rome,  France,  Italy,  Spain,  and  in  other 
Catholic  countries  of  North  and  South  America,  by  their  religious 
guides  and  teachers.  The  strange  feature  of  this  annihilation  of 


Religion  of  Shakespeare.  67 

the  liberty  of  the  Lord's  Day  is  the  servile  following  which 
the  English  political  Sunday  has  in  the  United  States;  and  that, 
too,  under  a  National  Constitution  which  prohibits  all  connexion 
between  Church  and  State,  and  likewise  under  State  Con- 
stitutions every  one  of  which  declares  that  "  no  laws  shall  be 
made  affecting  religious  belief/' 

This  may  seem  to  be  a  divergence  from  the  purposes  of  this 
chapter.  But  its  aim  is  to  exhibit  the  immense  interest  which 
the  English  Government,  and  particularly  that  portion  of  it  con- 
fided to  the  English  Church  (covering  as  it  does  the  great 
domain  of  English  scholarship) ,  has,  in  concentrating  every  par- 
ticle of  influence  which  can  contribute  toward  popular  control, 
within  their  own  hands,  for  the  security  of  their  privileges  and 
the  quiet  management  of  the  State.  This  is  the  reason  why 
the  English  churchmen  and  nobility  cannot  afford  to  relin- 
quish the  tremendous  advantages  of  Shakespeare's  inculcations  of 
loyal  subserviency  upon  millions  of  his  worshippers,  and  why  the 
dignitaries  of  the  Established  Church  cannot  permit  that  in- 
fluence to  be  impaired,  by  admitting  for  a  moment,  that  he  was 
a  Roman  Catholic.  This  is  the  key  to  the  denial  by  the 
English  commentators,  that  he  was  an  adherent  of  the  latter 
doctrine,  while  my  whole  purpose,  in  tracing  the  evidences  of 
Shakespeare's  attachment  to  the  Catholic  faith,  is  to  show  that 
the  Shakespeare  plays,  which  so  teem  with  Romish  reverence, 
and  which  so  abound  with  evidences  of  the  writer's  contempt  for 
Protestantism,  could  not  have  been  the  production  of  the  Puritan 
Lord  Bacon.  Indeed,  to  settle  this  question  more  certainly,  it  is 
only  necessary  to  contrast  the  decisive  illustrations  which  I  have 
attached  to  this  chapter,  in  the  way  of  Shakespearian  extracts, 
with  the  undisputed  facts  that  Bacon  wrote  metrical  versions  of 
the  Psalms  of  David,  and  dedicated  them  to  his  Protestant 
friend,  George  Herbert,  as  "  the  best  judge  of  divinity  and  poesy 
met;"5  and  that  he  also,  while  a  member  of  Parliament  for 
Liverpool,  wrote  a  paper  on  "  Church  Controversies,"  to  assist  a 
discourse  of  Secretary  Walsingham  on  the  conduct  of  the  Queen's 
government  towards  Papists  and  Dissenters.6 

Every  influence,  however,  has  its  period,  and  Shakespeare's 
prestige,  which  was  nothing  to  Government  in  the  arbitrary  age 

5  Holmes  on  "  The  Authorship  of  Shakespeare,"  p.  185. 
c  Holmes,  p.  84. 


68     Snakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

in  which  he  lived,  became  colossal  as  his  genius  developed  itself 
to  the  expanding-  intelligence  and  growing  literary  tastes  of  his 
countrymen.  Though  now  threatened  with  a  decline  from  its 
political  zenith,  his  poetic  supremacy  will  not  be  impaired,  even 
if  its  political  effectiveness  be  reduced  to  a  quantity  of  ordinary 
power.  Indeed,  should  it  be  proven  he  was  a  Catholic,  it  is  not 
impossible  that  the  nobility  of  England,  which  for  two  hundred 
years  and  more  have  been  claiming  for  him  a  divine  preeminence 
over  the  poets  of  all  other  countries,  or  that  the  English  Church, 
which  has  been  backing  these  extreme  pretensions,  may  ere 
long  abandon  him  to  the  defences  of  his  own  genius,  and  turn 
to  other  agencies  for  the  protection  of  their  political  ascendancy. 
It  is. hardly  necessary  that  I  should  add  anything  more,  at  this 
stage  of  my  inquiry,  as  to  the  respective  religious  beliefs  of  Lord 
Bacon  and  of  William  Shakespeare ;  but  before  taking  leave  of 
Henry  VIII.,  which  is  an  ample  field  of  reference  upon  this  sub- 
ject, I  will  direct  attention  to  the  fact  that'  the  poet  makes 
Queen  Catharine,  who  is  his  beau  ideal  of  Catholic  purity  and 
elevation,  declare  that  "  All  hoods  make  not  monks/'  and 
further  on,  when  she  addresses  the  Cardinals Wolsey  and  Campeius, 
he  allows  her  to  evince  the  comprehension  that  politics  soon  drives 
religion  from  the  soul,  by  the  sarcasm  :  "  If  ye  be  anything  but 
churchmen's  habits."  7  I  make  this  reference  because  it  seems 
to  me  to  take  the  steel  out  of  Knight's  point  on  the  passage  in 
"  King  John,"  commencing  with 

"  The  king,  I  fear,  is  poisoned  by  a  monk — 


A  monk,  I  tell  you ;  a  resolved  villain." 

I  am  reminded  by  a  note  from  a  Protestant  friend  (and,  it 
may  be  as  well  to  state  here  that  I  am  of  the  same  persuasion), 
that  I  shall  probably  find  some  difficulty  in  accounting  for 

*  See  "Henry  VIII."  Act  III.  Scene  l.X  Also  the  following  remarks  by 
Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  on  the  same : — "  The  play  of  *  Henry  VIII.,' "  says 
Johnson,  "  is  one  of  those  which  still  keeps  possession  of  the  stage  by  the 
splendour  of  its  pageantry.  The  coronation  scene,  about  forty  years  ago, 
drew  the  people  together  in  multitudes  for  the  great  part  of  the  winter.  Yet 
pomp  is  not  the  only  merit  of  this  play.  The  meek  sorrows  and  virtuous 
distress  of  Katharine  have  furnished  some  scenes  which  may  be  justly  num- 
bered among  the  greatest  efforts  of  tragedy.  But  the  genius  of  Shakespeare 
comes  in  and  goes  out  with  Katharine.  Every  other  part  may  be  easily  con- 
ceived and  easily  written." 


Religion  of  Shakespeare.  69 

Shakespeare's  great  familiarity  with  the  Bible,  inasmuch  as 
Catholics  were  not  allowed  to  read  the  sacred  volume ;  but  I  find 
no  difficulty  in  this  fact  at  all.  John  Shakespeare,  the  poet's 
father,  had  been  High  Bailiff  and  first  Alderman  of  Stratford, 
and  as  such  had  taken  the  oath  of  conformity ;  so  the  absence 
of  a  Protestant  Bible  from  his  house  might  have  led  to  the 
loss  of  his  office,  and  possibly  to  the  arrest  of  his  family.  The 
Bible,  no  doubt,  was  always  lying  conspiciously  "  around  "  in  the 
Stratford  homestead,  and  the  youthful  Shakespeare,  with  his 
rage  for  reading,  must  have  eagerly  devoured  its  splendid 
imagery — at  any  rate,  whenever  he  had  nothing  else  at  hand. 
But  he  was  equally,  nay,  much  better  informed  upon  Catholic 
rites  and  peculiarities  of  belief  than  of  Protestantisms,  as  has  been 
shown  by  his  frequent  allusions  to  their  terms  and  tenets,  and 
especially  to  purgatory — in  proof  of  which  I  refer  to  the  following 
exquisite  lines  in  Richard  III. : — 
QUEEN  ELIZABETH. 

Ah,  my  poor  princes  !     Ah,  my  tender  hahes ! 

My  unblown  flowers,  new-appearing  sweets  I 

If  yet  your  gentle  souls  fly  in  the  air, 

And  be  not  fix 'd  in  doom  perpetual, 

Hover  about  me  with  your  airy  wings, 

And  hear  your  mother's  lamentations. 

"  Eichard  in.,"  Act  IV.  Scene  4 

And  again  by  Buckingham  in  his  invocation,  on  the  way  to 
execution,  to  the  souls  of  those  whom  Richard  (by  his  own  help) 
had  murdered : — 

All  that  have  miscarried 
By  underhand,  corrupted  foul  injustice! 
If  that  your  moody  discontented  souls 
Do  through  the  clouds  behold  this  present  hour, 
Even  for  revenge,  mock  my  destruction ! 

The  most  remarkable  evidence,  to  my  mind,  that  Shakespeare 
could  not  have  been  a  Protestant,  is  the  restraint  which  he  im- 
posed upon  himself  during  Elizabeth's  reign,  against  writing 
even  a  line  reflecting  upon  the  manifold  atrocities  of  Bloody 
Mary,  though  she  at  one  time  even  meditated  sending  his 
patroness,  Elizabeth,  to  the  block.  Of  the  same  character  are 
his  slavish  praises  to  that  unparalleled  miscreant,  Henry  VIII., 
who  stifled  Smithfield  with  the  smoke  of  human  sacrifices,  for 
opinion's  sake.  Nevertheless,  Shakespeare  has  falsely  handed 
6 


70     Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

down  this  monster  to  the  English  people,  gilded  by  the  halo  of  his 
genius ;  nay,  has  consigned  him  to  their  forgiveness,  and  even  to 
their  affections,  as  Bluff  King  Hal.  There  was  some  reason, 
perhaps,  why  the  poet  should  pass  him  gently  by,  as  the  father 
of  Elizabeth  (though  the  play  of  "  Henry  VIII."  was  not  written 
until  long  after  her  decease),  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  Shake- 
speare's main  reason  was  because  Henry,  notwithstanding  his  per- 
secutions of  the  Church,  died  a  good  Catholic.  The  same  reason 
may  be  held  to  account  for  the  poet's  extreme  devotion  to  Queen 
Catharine,  who  was  conspicious  for  nothing,  except  for  the  pro- 
found depth  of  her  Catholic  bigotry;  which,  instead  of  having 
been  softened  by  English  influences,  seems  to  have  deepened 
from  the  hour  of  her  leaving  Spain. 

Before  closing  this  chapter  I  may  add  that  I  find  another 
personal  proof  of  Shakespeare's  Romanism  in  the  bitter  hatred 
which  he  repeatedly  exhibits  to  the  Jews.  This  prejudice  does 
not  exist  largely  among  Protestants  ;  at  any  rate,  not  among  the 
Protestants  of  the  United  States.  On  the  contrary,  the  Jews 
mingle  here  with  Christians  without  any  social  disadvantage; 
and,  for  my  own  part,  I  have  never  heard  of  any  historical,  ethno- 
logical, or  moral  reason  why  they  should  suffer  the  least  discount 
in  any  equitable  estimation.  They  certainly  are  the  purest  race 
known  to  the  world ;  and  this  purity  could  not  have  been  pre- 
served without  great  traits  of  character  and  great  sacrifices. 
They  are  notoriously  brave,  for  the  proofs  of  their  courage  are 
stamped  upon  every  age,  from  the  battle-field  to  the  prize-ring. 
Their  women  are  proverbially  virtuous  and  beautiful ;  an  intense 
interior  pride  keeps  them  from  ever  billeting  their  poor  upon  the 
public  charities;  and  the  wonder  is  that,  under  the  prejudice 
which  the  society  of  all  Christian  countries  has  unremittingly 
exercised  against  them,  they  remain  such  useful,  inoffensive,  law- 
abiding  citizens.  The  world  is  not  at  all  indebted  to  William 
Shakespeare  for  what  he  has  done  to  contribute  toward  this 
narrow,  grovelling,  and  contemptible  reflection  upon  the  Jews; 
and,  least  of  all,  should  he  be  respected  for  it  in  America.  Less, 
than  at  any  time,  to-day.  Prejudice  is  the  very  meanest  form  of 
slavery  ;  for  it  is  the  slavery  of  the  mind.  One  black,  shrivelling 
blot,  slavery,  has  recently  been  exuded  from  the  national  con- 
science. Surely  there  can  be  no  excuse  for  allowing  even  a  shadow 
of  this  other  to  remain* 


Legal  A cquirements  of  Shakespeare.  7 1 


CHAPTER  IX. 

LEGAL   ACQUIREMENTS    OF    SHAKESPEARE. 

HAVING  now  disposed,  in  a  general  way,  of  the  inquiry  as  to  the 
respective  religious  beliefs  of  Sir  Francis  Bacon  and  of  William 
Shakespeare,  we  are  now  prepared  to  pass  onto  the  reading  of  the 
plays  for  further  evidence  in  support  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
theory.  And  also  for  evidence  to  test  the  truth  of  the  declarations 
in  our  opening  chapter,  that  the  author  of  the  Shakespeare  plays 
was  never  betrayed  into  one  generous  aspiration  in  favour  of 
popular  liberty,  and  never  alluded  to 


detestation  or  contempt.  Further,  that  he  could  not  have  been 
a  statesman  or  a  lawyer  ;  both  of  which,  beyond  all  doubt,  Lord 
Bacon  was.  In  dealing  with  this  latter  point  I  am  aware  that 
I  shall  have  to  undertake  the  hazard  of  disagreeing,  to  some 
extent,  with  so  powerful  an  authority  as  Lord  Chief  Justice 
Campbell  of  England,  and  also  with  distinguished  lawyers  in  this 
country;  while,  in  denying  to  Shakespeare  a  single  political 
emotion  in  favour  of  liberty  for  the  masses,  I  am  also  conscious 
of  the  apparent  contradiction  which  presents  itself  to  this  assump- 
tion, in  the  one  solitary  play  of  "  Julius  Caesar,"  through  the 
character  of  Brutus.  Upon  this  latter  point,  however,  I  shall 
only  stop  at  this  stage  of  the  inquiry  to  say  that  Brutus,  though 
a  patriot,  in  the  sense  of  an  abounding  love  of  country,  was  at 
same  time  an  intense  aristocrat,  who  struck  Csesar  purely  in 
defence  of  an  oligarchical  form  of  government  and  the  privileges 
of  his  own  patrician  class,  and  whose  conspiracy  never  contem- 
plated for  a  moment  the  liberation  of  the  People  from  their  fixed 
condition  of  bondsmen  and  of  slaves.  .  His  invocations  to  Liberty, 
therefore,  were  merely  in  the  interest  of  the  associated  nobles,  as 
contrasted  with  the  invidious  despotism  of  a  king,  and  did  not 
comprehend  reducing  the  degrading  distance  between  the  Patri- 


72     Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

cians,  who  were  the  masters  of  the  State,  and  the  Plebeians,  who 
were  the  dirt  under  their  feet.  This  was  the  form  of  the  Roman 
Republic  in  the  defence  of  which  Brutus,  Cassius,  "  and  the  rest," 
struck  down  the  ambitious  Caesar.  They  were  patriots  in  their 
own  estimation,  of  course,  but  they  were  patriots  in  the  same 
sense  as  the  Earls  of  Warwick  and  of  Salisbury  were  patriots ;  and 
their  love  of  country  was  of  precisely  the  same  brand  as  that  of 
King  John  and  of  Henry  V.  But  of  this  more  in  the  proper 
place. 

The  assumption  that  the  author  of  the  Shakespeare  plays  must 
have  been  a  lawyer,  from  the  evidences  of  legal  erudition  which 
are  strewed  throughout  his  text,  has  been  a  very  favourite  one  with 
the  majority  of  the  commentators  and  biographers  of  William 
Shakespeare  ;  and  when  the  Baconian  theory  was  broached  a  few 
years  ago,  these  evidences  were  eagerly  seized  upon  by  the  persons 
who  claimed  the  credit  of  those  wonderful  productions  for  the 
great  Lord  Chancellor.     At  the  outset  of  this  discussion  of  Shake- 
l    speare's  legal  lore,  Bacon  was  not  thought  of  in  connexion  with 
1  the  puzzle ;  and  the  commentators,  therefore,  were  forced,  pretty 
)  generally,  to  come  to  the  conclusion  that  during  the  six  or  seven 
wears  between  Shakespeare's  leaving  school  and  going  up  to  Lon- 
Vlon  he  had  either  been  articled  to  an  attorney  or  been  a  clerk  and 
/scrivener  in  some  notary's  office.    Some  critics,  whose  brows  were 
more   rainbowed   than  the  rest,  suggested  that  any  extent  of 
scholastic  accomplishment  might  fairly  be  attributed  to  the  vivid, 
lambent,  quick-breeding  conception  of  such  a  miracle  of  genius 
as  was  the  poet  of  our  race ;  but  this  exceptional  theory  made 
but    little    headway    with   more   sober    reasoners,    mainly   for 
the  want  of  precedents  that  any  man  was  ever  known  to  have 
learned  his  letters,  or  attained  to  the  art  of  making  boots  or 
watches  by  mere  intuition.     The  fact  is,  that  the  true  difficulty 
with   this   portion   of  the   inquiry   has    been,   that   too   much 
erudition  and  legal  comprehension  has  been  attributed  to  Shake- 
speare for  what  his  law  phrases  indicate  ;  or,  in  plainer  words, 
they  have  been  paraded  at  a  great  deal   more   than  they  are 
really  worth. 

Let  me  say  here  for  myself,  however,  that  without  attributing 
too  much  to  the  exceptional  superiority  of  Shakespeare's  quickness 
of  conception  and  intellectual  grasp,  all  the  knowledge  which  he 
shows  of  legal  verbiage  and  of  certain  general  principles  of  law, 


Legal  A  cquirements  of  Shakespeare.  73 

so  far  as  he  refers  to  them  in  his  plays,  might,  it  seems  to  me, 
have  been  obtained — first,  by  reading  certain  elementary  works 
of  law  falling  in  his  way  ;  next,  by  attendance  at  the  courts  of 
record,  held  twice  a  month  at  Stratford,  and  courts-leet  and 
view  of  frankpledge,  held  in  the  same  town  twice  a  year.  Next, 
through  his  own  subsequent  experience  as  an  owner  of  real  estate ; 
which  latter  position  necessarily  familiarized  him  with  all  the 
forms  of  "  purchase,"  of  leases,  of  mortgages,  and  sale.  Besides, 
he  might  reasonably  be  credited  with  much  additional  law  know- 
ledge gained  by  legal  borrowing  and  lending,  and  through  law- 
suits which  we  know  he  instituted  for  the  recovery  of  debt.  I 
think  it  would  be  difficult  for  Lord  Campbell  to  show  that  the 
law  phrases  which  Shakespeare  uses  go  beyond  the  wide  scope  of 
this  opportunity  of  acquisition  to  a  bright-minded  man ;  while, 
if  we  are  to  take  into  consideration  the  subsequent  advantages 
our  poet  derived  in  London,  from  familiar  discussion  of  the  great  / 

law  cases  of  the  day  at  "  The  Maiden" J  and  other  popular  taverns    v _^ 

he  frequented  near  the  Inns  of  Court,  where  such  men  as  Ben 
Jonson,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Seldon,  Cotton,  Carew,  Donne, 
Martin,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  and  sometimes  even  Bacon  himself, 
found  conversational  relaxation  in  absence  of  newspapers,  we 
should  have  to  come  to  the  conclusion  that  Shakespeare  must 
have  been  a  very  dull  man  if  he  had  not  acquired  at  least  as  much 
legal  knowledge  as  his  dramas  show.2 

1  Beaumont,  in  a  friendly  letter  to  Ben  Jonson  from  the  country,  says,-— 

"  What  things  have  we  seen 

Done  at  the  Mermaid !  heard  words  that  have  been 
So  nimble,  and  so  full  of  subtle  flame, 
As  if  that  every  one  from  whom  they  came 
Had  meant  to  put  his  whole  wit  in  a  jest." 

2  Lord  Campbell  says,  "At  Stratford  there  was,  by  royal  charter,   a 
court  of  record,  with  jurisdiction  over  all  personal  action  to  the  amount 
of  30£,  equal,  at  the  latter  end  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  to  more  than  1001. 
in  the  reign  of  Victoria.     This  court,  the  records  of  which  are  extant,  was 
regulated  by  the  course  of  practice  and  pleading  which  prevailed  in  the 
superior  courts  of  law  at  "Westminster,  and  employed  the  same  barbarous 
dialect,  composed  of  Latin,  English,  and  Norman  French.     It  sat  every  fort- 
night, and  there  belonged  to  it,  besides  the  town  clerk,  six  attorneys,  some  of 
whom  must  have  practised  in  the  Queen's  Bench  in  Chancery,  and  have  had 
extensive  business  in  conveyancing.     An  attorney,  steward  of  the  Earl  of 
Warwick,  lord  of  the  manor  of  Stratford,  twice  a  year  held  a  court-leet  and 


74     Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Chalmers  was  the  first  to  present  the  theory  that  Shakespeare 
must,  for  a  considerable  portion  of  his  unrecorded  youthful  life, 
have  been  an  attorney's  clerk  at  Stratford.  Malone  and  others 
adopted  this  view  from  the  very  necessity  of  accounting  for  the 
oft-recurring1  law  phrases  in  the  Shakespeare  text ;  while  Lord 
Chief  Justice  Campbell  has  been  carried  to  such  an  extent  of 
enthusiasm  by  these  professional  terms  as  to  attribute  to  Shake- 
speare quite  an  extensive  knowledge  of  the  law.  His  expression 
is :  "  Great  as  is  the  knowledge  of  the  law  which  Shakespeare's 
writings  display,  and  familiar  as  he  appears  to  have  been  with 
all  its  forms  and  proceedings,  the  whole  of  this  would  easily  be 
accounted  for,  if  for  some  years  he  had  occupied  a  desk  in  the 
office  of  a  country  attorney  in  good  business  ;  attending  sessions 
and  assizes,  keeping  leet  days  and  law  days,  and,  perhaps,  being 
sent  up  to  the  metropolis  in  term  time  to  conduct  suits  before 
the  Lord  Chancellor.-"3 

My  objection  to  this  is,  with  all  due  deference  to  so  great  a 
lawyer  as  a  Lord  Chief  Justice,  that  the  author  of  the  Shake- 
speare plays  did  not  possess  any  great  knowledge  of  the  law ;  or, 
if  he  did,  his  dramatic  writings  do  not  show  it.  He  exhibits, 
without  doubt,  a  familiarity  in  law  expressions,  and  applies 
them  with  a  precision  and  a  happiness  of  application  in  all  cases 
which  apparently  carries  the  idea  that  he  may  have  served  in 
an  attorney's  office ;  but  not  one  of  them,  nor  do  all  of  them 
together,  mark  anything  higher  than  mere  general  principles 
and  forms  of  practice,  or  such  surface  clack  and  knowledge  as 
were  within  the  mental  reach  of  any  clever  scrivener  or  convey- 
ancer's clerk.  On  the  contrary,  whenever  Shakespeare  steps 
beyond  the  surface  comprehension  of  the  solicitor's  phraseology, 
and  attempts  to  deal  with  the  spirit  and  philosophy  of  law, 
he  makes  a  lamentable  failure.  "  The  Merchant  of  Venice," 
"Comedy  of  Errors/'  "Winter's  Tale,"  and  "Measure  for 
Measure,"  contain  conspicuous  proofs  of  this  deficiency,  while 
the  statesmanship  of  the  Duke  in  the  "Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona,"  who,  in  his  joy  at  recovering  his  daughter  from  a 

view  of  frank-pledge  there,  to  which  a  jury  was  summoned,  and  at  which 
constables  were  appointed  and  various  presentments  were  made." — Campbell, 
p.  22. 

3  "  Shakespeare's  Legal  Attainments,"  by  Lord  John  Campbell.  Apple- 
ton's  edition,  1869,  p.  24 


Legal  A cquirements  of  Shakespeare.  7 5 

gang  of  cut- throats  in  a  forest,  endeavours  to  reform  them  by 
appointing  them  to  high  posts  under  Government,  is  a  sort  of 
policy  which  Lord  Bacon  was  never  accused  of,  while  he  was  a 
member  of  the  Privy  Council. 

Lord  Campbell's  essay  on  "  The  Legal  Acquirements  of  Shake- 
speare" was  drawn  forth  by  an  inquiry  addressed  to  his  Lordship 
on  that  subject,  by  Mr.  Payne  Collier  (one  of  the  most  learned 
and  thorough  of  the  Shakespearian  commentators),  whether  his 
Lordship  was  of  the  opinion  that  Shakespeare  "  was  a  clerk  in 
an  attorney's  office  in  Stratford,  before  he  joined  the  players  in 
London  "  ?  This  led  to  an  answer  by  his  Lordship,  under  date 
of  September  15,  1858,  which  shows  a  discovery  of  legal  phrases 
and  allusions  in  twenty-three  of  the  thirty-seven  Shakespeare 
plays ;  and  it  is  this  amount  of  evidence  which  (though  it  does 
not  bring  the  learned  replicant  to  an  absolute  conclusion)  elicits 
from  him  the  expression  which  I  have  already  given.  His 
Lordship  sets  out  in  his  response  to  Mr.  Collier  with — "  I  am 
obliged  to  say  that,  to  the  question  you  propound,  no  positive 
answer  can  very  safely  be  given  •"  but  he  adds  that,  "  were  an 
issue  tried  before  me,  as  Chief  Justice,  at  the  Warwick  Assizes, 
whether  William  Shakespeare  was  ever  clerk  in  an  attorney's 
office,  I  should  hold  that  there  is  evidence  to  go  to  the  jury  in 
support  of  the  affirmative/' 

His  Lordship,  however,  does  not  hesitate  to  declare,  further 
on,  that  there  is  one  piece  of  direct  evidence,  if  not  two,  that 
Shakespeare  had  been  so  employed  in  Stratford;  and  he  is 
brought  to  this  conclusion  by  libels  which  Greene  and  Nash, 
two  jealous  play-writing  contemporaries,  had  made  upon  our 
poet  in  the  preface  to  a  work  of  Greene's,  edited  by  Nash,  and 
published  in  1589.  This  preface,  which  I  have  already  briefly 
noticed  in  Chapter  IV.,  characterizes  Shakespeare,  though  his 
name  is  not  precisely  mentioned,  as  "  one  of  a  sort  of  shifting 
companions  that  run  through  every  art  and  thrive  by  none,  to 
leave  the  trade  of  noverint  whereto  they  were  born  .  .  .  .  ,  and 
who  busy  themselves  with  whole  Hamlets  of  tragical  speeches, 
&c."  The  term  noverint  is  recognized  by  Lord  Campbell  as 
indicating  the  business  of  an  attorney,  in  Shakespeare's  time. 
Moreover,  he  believes  that  the  phrase  of  "  whole  Hamlets"  is  a 
distinct  allusion  to  the  great  play  of  our  poet,  and  that  the 
epithet  of  Shake-scene,  applied  to  him  by  Greene  in  a  subsequent 


76     Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

libel,  published  in  1592,  was  an  undoubted  mimicry  of  Shake- 
speare's name. 

In  view  of  this  direct  evidence,  supported  by  the  text,  and  by 
the  general  circumstances  of  the  case,  Lord  Campbell  closes  his 
reply  to  Mr.  Collier  by  saying,  "  Therefore,  my  dear  Mr.  Payne 
Collier,  in  support  of  your  opinion  that  Shakespeare  had  been 
bred  to  the  profession  of  the  law  in  an  attorney's  office,  I  think 
you  will  he  justified  in  saying  that  the  fact  was  asserted  publicly 
in  Shakespeare's  lifetime  by  two  contemporaries  of  Shakespeare, 
who  were  engaged  in  the  same  pursuits  with  himself,  who  must 
have  known  him  well,  and  who  were  probably  acquainted  with 
the  whole  of  his  career.  I  must  likewise  admit  that  this 
assertion  is  strongly  corroborated  by  internal  evidence  to  be 
found  in  Shakespeare's  writings.  I  have  once  more  perused  the 
whole  of  his  dramas,  that  I  might  more  satisfactorily  answer 
your  question,  and  render  you  some  assistance  in  finally  coming 
to  a  right  conclusion/' 

Lord  Campbell  then  goes  on  to  produce  his  illustrations  from 
the  plays  and  sonnets  attributed  to  Shakespeare,  and  I  cannot 
help  remarking,  that  it  would  be  well  for  his  Lordship's  admirers 
if  he  had  exhibited  as  much  good  sense  and  judgment  in  his 
presentment  of  these  extracts  as  he  did  in  his  decision  of 
Mr.  Collier's  general  question.  Two  or  three  examples  will  give 
an  idea  of  his  Lordship's  mode  of  reasoning,  and  of  the  singular 
earnestness  which,  tarantula-like,  seems  to  have  bitten  all  the 
commentators  with  a  sort  of  mad  desire  to  prove  Shakespeare  to 
have  been  a  miracle,  in  every  specialty ;  and  this,  too  often, 
without  either  rhyme  or  reason. 

His  Lordship's  first  illustration  of  the  depth  of  Shakespeare's 
legal  lore  is  from  the  "Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,"  and  is  as 
follows : — 

FALSTAFF.  Of  what  quality  was  your  love,  then  ? 

FOBD.  Like  a  fair  house  built  upon  another  man's  ground ;  so  that  I  have 
lost  my  edifice  by  mistaking  the  'place  where  I  erected  it. 

Probably  not  a  single  well-informed  person  in  England  or 
America,  of  either  sex,  does  not  know  as  much  law  as  the  above 
indicates — nay,  does  not  even  know  that  a  nail  driven  by  a  tenant 
into  the  wall  must  remain  with  the  realty — yet  our  learned  Chief 
Justice  thus  discourses  on  it : — 


Legal  Acquirements  of  Shakespeare.  7  7 

"  Now  tins  shows  in  Shakespeare  a  knowledge  of  the  law  of 
real  property  not  generally  possessed.  The  unlearned  would 
suppose  that  if,  by  mistake,  a  man  builds  a  fine  house  on  the 
land  of  another,  when  he  discovers  his  error  he  will  be  permitted 
to  remove  all  the  materials  of  the  structure,  and  particularly  the 
marble  pillars  and  carved  chimney-pieces  with  which  he  has 
adorned  it :  but  Shakespeare  knew  better.  He  was  aware  that, 
being  fixed  to  the  freehold,  the  absolute  property  in  them 
belonged  to  the  owner  of  the  soil" 

Again,  says  his  Lordship,  he  remarks  as  to  "  Measure  for 
Measure :" —  . 

"  In  Act  I.  Scene  2,  the  old  lady  who  had  kept  a  lodging- 
Jiouse  of  a  disreputable  character  in  the  suburbs  of  Vienna,  being 
thrown  into  despair  by  the  proclamation  that  all  such  houses  in 
the  suburbs  must  be  plucked  down,  the  Clown  thus  comforts 
her: — 

CLOWN.  Come ;  fear  not  you ;  good  counsellors  lack  no  clients. 

"  This  comparison/'  says  Lord  Campbell,  "  is  not  very  flattering 
to  the  bar,  but  it  seems  to  show  a  familiarity  with  both  pro- 
fessions alluded  to." 

My  observation  upon  this  would  be,  that  the  Clown  could  not 
have  made  use  of  a  more  trite  and  ordinary  proverb,  in  application 
to  the  subject,  even  if  he  had  been  a  more  profound  person  than 
a  clown. 

But  let  us,  at  the  present,  go  with  his  Lordship  one  step 
further.  From  ' '  Macbeth"  he  quotes  the  lines : — 

"  But  yet  I'll  make  assurance  doubly  sure, 
And  take  a  bond  of  fate." 

And  this  to  prove  Shakespeare  to  have  been  a  lawyer! 
Further  on  his  Lordship  takes  the  following  couplet  from 
"  Venus  and  Adonis  "  to  establish  the  same  thing : — 

"  But  when  the  heart's  attorney  once  is  mute, 
the  client  breaks  as  desperate  in  the  suit." 

If  this  is  fair  evidence,  and  fair  reasoning  upon  that  evidence, 
to  show  Shakespeare  to  have  been  a  lawyer,  then,  certainly, 
Hamlet's  direction  to  the  players — 

"  To  hold  as  'twere  the  mirror  up  to  nature," 

would  prove,  beyond  all  doubt,  that  Shakespeare  must  have  been 


78     Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

a  looking-glass  maker,  or  at  least  a  dealer  in  that  trade  ;  or  that 
these  two  lines  of  Faulconbridge,  in  "  King  John/-'  which  criticize 
the  form  of  attack  proposed  by  the  French  and  Austrian  divisions 
upon  Angiers, — 

"  0  prudent  discipline  !  from  north  to  south, 
Austria  and  France  shoot  in  each  other's  mouth," 

would  prove  Shakespeare  to  have  been  a  soldier. 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  THE  PLAYS. 


"  The  Tempest^ 


CHAPTER  X. 

"THE  TEMPEST." 

WE  have  now  arrived  at  the  most  important  branch  of  our  in- 
quiry ;  namely,  at  that  by  means  of  which  Shakespeare  may  him- 
self be  "  interviewed  "  through  the  testimony  of  his  text.  For 
this  purpose  I  shall  have  to  make  liberal  extracts  from  the 'plays, 
as  on  the  faith  of  my  opening-  declarations  I  shall  not  feel 
at  liberty  to  omit  any  expression  which  may  seem  to  bear  upon 
the  argument,  whether  it  be  for  one  side  or  the  other,  so  that 
the  reader  may,  without  regard  to  my  opinion,  give  judgment 
for  himself.  Indeed,  if  anything  deemed  pertinent  shall  chance 
to  be  left  out,  it  will  be  because  I  have  overlooked  it ;  and  I  will 
here  avail  myself  of  the  opportunity  to  apologize  for  the  extent 
of  the  extracts  which  I  have  already  made  from  the  old  bio- 
graphers as  to  Shakespeare's  personal  history.  Doubtless,  these 
will  be  very  trite  and  tiresome  to  scholars,  to  whom  they  are 
familiar,  but  I  shall  be  excused  when  it  is  recollected  that  these 
extracts  seemed  necessary  to  substantiate  my  statements,  while, 
for  the  convenience  of  the  reader,  it  is  perhaps  better  they  should 
be  in  this  book,  ready  to  his  hand,  than  be  sought  after  in  the 
public  libraries. 

For  convenience  of  examination,  I  shall  take  the  dramas  in  the 
order  in  which  they  were  first  published  in  the  original  folio  of 
1623.  This  publication  puts  "  The  Tempest "  first;  but  in- 
stead of  being  one  of  Shakespeare's  earliest  plays,  it  was  really 
one  of  his  latest,  for  it  was  not  produced,  according  to  Malone, 
till  1612,  only  four  years  previous  to  our  poet's  death. 

There  is  not  much  in  "  The  Tempest"  bearing  upon  the  points 
that  I  have  offered,  though  it  will  serve  to  strengthen  my  view 
concerning  the  aristocratic  class  of  personages  chosen  invariably 
by  Shakespeare  for  his  favourite  characters,  and  the  wide  and  con- 


82    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

temptuous  distance  he  always  places  off  between  these  favourites 
of  his  muse  and  the  "  common  "  people.  With  this  view,  I  will 
give  the  dramatis  persona,  along  with  the  first  scene,  in  which 
most  of  the  characters  are  introduced : — 

ALONZO,  King  of  Naples. 
SEBASTIAN,  his  brother. 
PEOSPEBO,  the  rightful  Duke  of  Milan. 
ANTONIO,  his  brother,  the  usurping  DuJce  of  Milan. 
FEEDINAND,  son  to  the  Xing  of  Naples. 
GONZALO,  an  honest  old  counsellor  of  Naples. 
ADEIAN,  FBANCISCA,  lords. 
CALIBAN,  a  savage  and  deformed  slave. 
TEINCULO,  a  jester. 
STEPHANO,  a  drunken  butler. 
•    Master  of  a  ship,  Boatswain,  and  Mariners. 
MIEANDA,  daughter  to  Prospero. 
AEIEL,  an  airy  spirit. 

Act  I.  Scene  1. 

On  a  Ship  at  Sea — A  Storm,  with  Thunder  and  Lightning. 
Enter  a  Shipmaster  and  a  Boatswain. 

MAST.  Boatswain— 

BOATS.  Here,  master  ;  what  cheer  ? 

MAST.  Good ;  speak  to  the  mariners ;  fall  to't  yarely,  or  we  run  ourselves 
aground ;  hestir,  bestir.  [Exit. 

Enter  Mariners. 

BOATS.  Heigh,  my  hearts ;  cheerly,  cheerly,  my  hearts ;  yare,  yare ;  take 
in  the  topsail;    tend  to  the   master's  whistle.     Blow  till  thou   burst  thy 
wind,  if  room  enough  ! 
Enter  ALONZO,  SEBASTIAN,  ANTONIO,  FEEDINAND,  GONZALO,  and  others. 

ALON.  Good  boatswain,  have  care.     Where's  the  master  ?     Play  the  men. 

BOATS.  I  pray,  now,  keep  below. 

ANT.  Where  is  the  master,  boatswain? 

BOATS.  Do  you  not  hear  him  ?  You  mar  our  labour.  Keep  your  cabins  ; 
you  do  assist  the  storm. 

GON.  Nay,  good,  be  patient. 

BOATS.  When  the  sea  is.  Hence !  what  care  these  roarers  for  the  name  of 
king !  To  cabin ;  silence ;  trouble  us  not. 

GON.  Good ;  yet  remember  whom  thou  hast  aboard. 

BOATS.  None  that  I  more  love  than  myself.  You  are  a  counsellor ;  if  you 
can  command  these  elements  to  silence,  and  work  the  peace  of  the  present,  we 
will  not  hand  a  rope  more ;  use  your  authority.  If  you  cannot,  give  thanks 
you  have  lived  so  long,  and  make  yourself  ready  in  your  cabin  for  the  mis- 
chance of  the  hour,  if  it  so  hap.  Cheerily,  good  hearts. — Out  of  our  way,  I 
say.  {Exit. 


"  The  Tempest:1  83 

GON.  I  have  great  comfort  from  this  fellow;  methinks  he  hath  no  drown- 
ing mark  upon  him ;  his  complexion  is  perfect  gallows.  Stand  fast,  good  fate, 
to  his  hanging !  Make  the  rope  of  his  destiny  our  cable,  for  our  own  doth 
little  advantage !  If  he  he  not  born  to  be  hanged,  our  case  is  miserable. 

[Exeunt. 

Re-enter  Boatswain. 

BOATS.  Down  with  the  topmast ;  yare ;  lower,  lower ;  bring  her  to  try  with 
main  course.  [A  cry  within.']  A  plague  upon  this  howling !  they  are  louder 
than  the  weather,  or  our  office— 

He-enter  SEBASTIAN,  ANTONIO,  and  GONZALO. 

Yet  again  ?  what  do  you  do  here  ?    Shall  we  give  o'er,  and  drown  !    Have 
you  a  mind  to  sink ! 

****** 

ANT.  "We  are  merely  cheated  of  our  lives  by 

This  wide-chapped  rascal.    Would  thou  mightst  lie  drowning, 
The  washing  of  ten  tides ! 
GON.  He'll  be  hanged  yet ; 

Though  every  drop  of  water  swear  against  it, 
And  gape  at  wid'st  to  glut  him. 

[A  confused  noise  within.']    Mercy  on  us !     We  split !  we  split !    Farewell 
my  wife  and  children !     Farewell,  brother !    We  split,  we  split,  we  split ! 
ANT.  Let's  all  sink  with  the  king.  [Exit. 

After  this  last  touching  evidence  of  loyalty,  the  storm  sub- 
sides, and  the  parties  distribute  themselves  about  the  island,  on 
which  they  have  been  stranded,  and  upon  which  there  are  but 
three  other  persons — Prospero,  Miranda,  and  Caliban.  By  the 
above  it  will  be  perceived  that  the  boatswain,  who  labours  hard 
and  honestly  at  his  vocation,  who  speaks  nothing1  but  good  sense, 
and  who  is  doing  his  utmost  to  save  the  ship,  is  denounced  as  a 
cur  and  a  rogue  by  the  lords,  simply  because  he  ventures  to 
remonstrate  hastily  with  the  gentlemen  of  the  scene  for  interfering 
with  his  imperative  and  vitally  important  duties.  Further  on, 
Shakespeare,  in  the  character  of  Prospero,  and  evidently  speaking 
in  a  tone  he  would  have  used  for  himself,  directs  Ariel  to  have 
the  wandering  ship's  company  brought  together,  in  order  to  be- 
hold a  "masque"  of  fairies,  which  he  has  prepared  for  the 
general  entertainment. 

PBOSPEEO  (to  Ariel).    Go  bring  the  rabble, 

O'er  whom  I  give  thee  power,  here  to  this  place ! 

The  rabble  meaning,  of  course,  the  ship's  company,  and  all  of  the 
dramatis  persona  who  are  not  gentlemen. 


S/j.   Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

I  think  that  the  unvarying  inclination  which  Shakespeare 
shows,  to  speak  with  contempt  of  the  labouring  classes  sprang  from 
some  notion  in  the  poet's  mind  that  he  was  a  gentleman  himself. 
This  idea  finds  support  in  the  fact  that  he  could  trace  his  name, 
on  one  side,  to  the  battle  of  Hastings,  and  his  ancestors,  on  both 
sides,  to  the  battle  of  Bosworth  Field ;  but  more  distinctly  in 
the  fact  of  his  having  laid  out  a  considerable  sum  of  money, 
after  he  had  become  rich  by  theatrical  management,  to  purchase 
for  his  father  a  coat  of  arms.  This  gives  a  sharp  point  to  the 
remark  of  Halliwell  upon  the  death  of  John  Shakespeare,  that 
"it  would  have  pleased  us  better  had  we  found  Shakespeare 
raising  monuments  to  his  parents  in  the  venerable  pile  which 
now  covers  his  own  remains."  The  effort  to  have  his  father  made 
"  a  gentleman  of  worship "  supplies  the  key  to  the  otherwise 
strange  contradiction  of  his  always  being  so  bitterly  derisive  of 
"  greasy  mechanics/''  "  woollen  slaves,"  and  peasants/'  as  he 
terms  the  masses  from  whose  midst  he  sprang.  New  converts, 
as  we  know,  are  usually  the  most  vehement  denouncers  of 
rejected  associates  and  principles. 


"TWO   GENTLEMEN   OF   VERONA." 

It  is  agreed  on  all  sides  that  the  "  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  " 
was  among  the  earliest  of  Shakespeare's  dramatic  compositions, 
and  some  commentators  think  it  was  his  very  first  play — "  The 
Comedy  of  Errors "  being,  probably,  his  second.  The  l  Two 
Gentlemen  "  did  not  reach  the  dignity  of  print,  however,  until 
the  publication  of  the  first  general  collection,  known  as  the 
folio  of  1683,  seven  years  after  Shakespeare's  death.  The  reason 
why  it  was  not  placed  first  in  the  catalogue,  and  the  others  made 
to  follow,  according  to  the  supposed  chronological  order  of  their 
production,  was  doubtless  because  it  was  feared  that  this  plan, 
by  placing  the  weakest  of  our  poet's  productions  at  the  front, 
would  do  him  injustice  with  every  fresh  reader,  who,  starting 
with  the  play  as  an  example,  might  not  be  induced  to  pursue 
the  study  further.  Therefore,  "  The  Tempest,"  one  of  his 
most  highly  finished  productions,  was  placed  foremost,  and 
the  rest  followed  without  order,  so  far  at  least  as  the  come- 
dies were  concerned,  with  the  view  of  giving  a  rapid  exhi- 


"  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona."  85 

bition  of  the  writer's  infinite  variety.  "But/*  says  Knight, 
"  there  must  have  been  years  of  labour  before  the  genius 
that  produced  the  'Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona'  could  have 
produced  '  The  Tempest.' ':  In  fact,  it  is  so  far  below  the  mark 
of  the  latter  magnificently-worked-out  conception,  that  many 
have  seriously  doubted  the  authenticity  of  the  "Two  Gentle- 
men" as  a  Shakespearian  production;  while  several  critics  of 
position,  among  whom  are  Hanmer,  Theobald,  and  Upton,  de- 
nounce the  piece  as  spurious  altogether.  There  can  scarcely  be  a 
doubt,  however  (though  Shakespeare  can  easily  be  convicted  of 
having  adopted  the  stoiy  of  the  piece  from  others),  that  the  text 
was  all  his  own.  Upon  this  question  Dr.  Johnson  very  pertinently 
says,  at  the  close  of  his  dictum  in  favour  of  its  authenticity  as  a 
Shakespeare  play,  "  if  it  be  taken  from  him,  to  whom  shall  it  be 
given  ?  "  The  Doctor,  in  fixing  the  literary  status  of  this  work, 
continues  :— - 

"  In  this  play  there  is  a  strange  mixture  of  knowledge  and 

ignorance,  of  care  and  negligence The  author  conveys  his 

heroes  by  sea  from  one  inland  town  to  another  in  the  same 
country ;  he  places  the  Emperor  at  Milan,  and  sends  his  young 
men  to  attend  him,  but  never  mentions  him  more.  He  makes 
Proteus,  after  an  interview  with  Silvia,  say  he  has  only  seen  her 
picture ;  and,  if  we  may  credit  the  old  copies,  he  has,  by  mis- 
taking places,  left  his  scenery  inextricable.  The  reason  of  all 
this  confusion  seems  to  be  that  he  took  his  story  from  a  novel, 
which  he  sometimes  followed  and  sometimes  forsook,  sometimes 
remembered  and  sometimes  forgot."  "It  has  been  well  re- 
marked that  such  historical  and  geographical  blunders  as  these 
could  hardly  have  been  committed  by  Lord  Bacon,  even  in  his 
earliest  youth.  In  all  popular  knowledge  Shakespeare  was  a 
master.  He  does  not  err  in  his  illustrations  drawn  from  hunting 
and  hawking  and  natural  phenomena,  or  in  such  natural  history 
as  is  learnt  from  close  observation  of  the  habits  of  animals.  He 
blunders  in  things  which  could  only  have  been  derived  from 
book-learning,  in  which  Bacon  excelled."  ] 

These  remarks  lead  us  directly  to  the  further  observation,  that 
the  production  of  the  "  Two  Gentlemen,"  being  generally  placed 
at  the  date  of  1591,  when  Bacon  was  thirty-one  years  of  age, 

1  Win.  H.  Smith's  "Inquiry,"  p,  101.    London,  1857. 

7 


86   Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

could  hardly  have  received  these  errors  at  his  hands ;  while  the 
supposition  that  he  could  have  permitted  them  to  live  under  his 
eye,  unconnected,  even  after  the  plays  had  attained  the  highest 
fame  and  the  folio  had  gone  through  several  editions,  is  not 
entitled  to  a  moment's  entertainment.  If  the  play  was  thought 
worthy,  hy  Bacon,  of  being  put  surreptitiously  into  Shakespeare's 
hands,  for  transcription  and  performance,  it  surely  must  have 
been  thought  deserving,  after  it  had  become  part  of  a  great  fame, 
of  being  retouched  by  a  few  correctional  notes.  And  these  could 
have  been  as  easily  handed  to  Shakespeare  as  the  original  MSS., 
or  have  been  sent  to  the  publishers  of  the  folio,  after  Shakespeare's 
death ;  for  Bacon  outlived  Shakespeare  long  enough  to  know  that 
the  poet  had  already  acquired  a  fame  and  received  an  homage  from 
mankind  which  he,  with  all  of  his  triumphs  in  philosophy,  could 
never  hope  to  reach.  The  idea  that  Bacon,  with  his  covetous 
imagination,  could  have  been  indifferent  to  such  fame  as  this, 
seems  to  be  beyond  all  the  bounds  of  reason ;  while  the  notion 
that  the  mind  which  originally  desired  the  production  of  the  play 
would  not  have  corrected  its  errors,  after  it  had  detected  them, 
appears  to  be  utterly  absurd.  In  the  first  place,  the  experience 
of  Bacon  could  not  have  made  these  errors ;  but  admitting  that 
they  had  escaped  him  originally,  through  the  haste  of  writing, 
he  must  have  detected  them  afterward,  through  the  very  neces- 
sities of  his  local,  legal,  and  political  career.  Indeed,  if  the  "  Two 
Gentlemen"  is  to  be  received  as  one  of  the  Shakespeare  plays,  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  whole  Baconian  theory  falls  at  once.  It 
is  simply  beyond  the  reach  of  belief  (if  the  play  were  written 
by  Bacon)  that  he  never  corrected  it;  since  we  know,  through 
Bacon's  biographers,  that,  for  greater  accuracy,  he  frequently 
revised  all  his  works,  and  transcribed  his  "Novum  Organum" 
twelve  times. 

The  story  of  this  play  is  very  simple.  Valentine  and  Proteus, 
who  give  title  to  the  piece,  and  who  are  hardly  more  than  boys, 
are  scions  of  two  wealthy  and  noble  families  of  Verona.  The  first 
act  opens  with  the  departure  of  the  former  on  a  travelling  tour, 
by  way  of  increasing  his  accomplishments,  and  on  taking  leave 
of  Proteus  (who,  being  in  love,  prefers  to  remain  at  home)  he 
indulges  in  some  smart  reflections  on  his  friend's  amorous  in- 
fatuation. Presently  the  father  of  Proteus,  having  heard  that 
Valentine  has  gone  abroad,  declares  that  his  son  shall  improve 


"  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona."  87 

himself  in  like  manner;  and  consequently,  at  one  day's  notice, 
and  without  giving  him  more  than  a  bare  opportunity  to  take  a 
hasty  leave  of  his  sweetheart  Julia,  sends  him  also  to  the  Em- 
peror's court.  Before  Proteus  arrives  there,  however,  Valentine 
has  so  well  improved  his  time  that  he  has  succeeded  in  making 
Silvia,  the  Duke  of  Milan's  daughter,  fall  in  love  with  him ; 
the  only  difficulty,  however,  being  that  Silvia  stands  en- 
gaged, by  the  Duke's  special  permission,  to  Sir  Thurio,  a  very 
wealthy  nobleman  of  his  court.  By-and-by  Proteus  appears, 
and  he  at  once,  forgetful  of  his  vows  to  Julia  and  his  duty  to  his 
friend,  falls  in  love  with  Silvia  himself.  Nay,  worse,  though 
told  by  Valentine,  in  the  sacred  confidence  of  friendship,  that  he 
and  Silvia  are  betrothed,  indeed,  are  on  the  eve  of  an  elopement 
for  the  purpose  of  marriage,  Proteus  basely  betrays  this  secret 
to  the  Duke,  and  seeks  the  ruin  of  his  friend,  in  the  hope  of 
gaining  ultimate  possession  of  Silvia  himself.  The  traitor  justifies 
this  shocking  perfidy  to  Julia  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  Valentine 
on  the  other,  in  a  soliloquy,  in  which  occur  these  abominable 
lines : — 

Unheedful  vows  may  needfully  be  broken ; 
And  he  wants  wit  that  wants  resolved  will 
To  learn  his  wit  to  exchange  the  bad  for  better. 

Act  II.  Scene  6. 

The  result  of  this  villany  by  Proteus  is  the  banishment  of 
Valentine,  who,  falling  in  with  a  band  of  outlaws,  is  made  their 
captain,  while  Silvia,  rendered  desperate  by  her  misfortunes,  and 
spurning  the  false  love  of  Proteus,  escapes  from  her  confinement 
to  a  neighbouring  forest,  under  the  protection  of  a  gentleman 
named  Sir  Eglamour,  to  whom  she  appoints  a  rendezvous — to 
use  her  own  devout  language — 

At  friar  Patrick's  cell, 

Where  I  intend  holy  confession. 

News  of  her  flight,  in  company  with  Eglamour,  is  soon  brought 
to  the  Duke,  and  he  informs  Proteus  of  it  as  follows  : — 

DUKE.  She's  fled  unto  that  peasant  Valentine ; 
And  Eglamour  is  in  her  company. 
'Tis  true ;  for  friar  Lawrence  met  them  both, 
As  he  in  penance  wandered  through  the  forest : 


88   Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Him,  he  knew  well,  and  guess'd  that  it  was  she  ; 
But,  being  mask'd,  he  was  not  sure  of  it : 
Besides,  she  did  intend  confession 
At  Patrick's  cell  this  even ;  and  there  she  was  not. 

Here  we  find  united  evidences  of  that  unvarying-  Catholic  reve- 
rence which  Shakespeare  always  expresses  when  speaking  of  a 
priest;  and  likewise  of  that  contempt  for  humble  life  which  I 
have  pointed  out  as  another  of  his  peculiarities,  in  the  opprobrious 
use  he  makes  of  the  word  peasant,  by  applying  it  as  an  epithet 
of  contempt  to  the  well-born  Valentine.  Proteus  has  previously 
used  the  same  angry  epithet  to  Launce. 

But  to  return  to  the  story.  Proteus,  having  obtained  from  the 
Duke,  as  above  described,  the  direction  of  Silvia's  flight  and  of 
his  intention  to  pursue  her,  takes  with  him  his  page,  Sebastian, 
and  hastens  to  the  forest,  with  the  view  of  anticipating  the 
Duke,  and  of  obtaining  possession  of  her  for  himself,  in 
advance  of  the  Duke's  arrival.  It  appears,  however,  that, 
before  Proteus  gets  to  the  forest  with  his  party,  a  portion  of  the 
outlaws  capture  Silvia;  Sir  Eglamour,  her  escourt,  prudently 
running  away.  Her  deplorable  situation  then  is  thus  described 
by  Shakespeare : — 

Act  V.  Scene  3.— The  Forest. 
Enter  SYLVIA  and  Outlaws. 
OUT.      Come,  come ; 

Be  patient,  we  must  bring  you  to  our  captain . 
SIL.        A  thousand  more  mischances  than  this  one 

Have  learn'd  me  how  to  brook  this  patiently. 

2  OUT.  Come,  bring  her  away. 

1  OUT.  Where  is  the  gentleman  that  was  with  her  ? 

3  OUT.  Being  nimble-footed,  he  hath  outrun  us, 

But  Moyses,  and  Valerius,  follow  him. 

Go  thou  with  her  to  the  west  end  of  the  wood, 

There  is  our  captain ;  we'll  follow  him  that's  fled. 

The  thicket  is  beset,  he  cannot  'scape. 
1  OUT.  Come,  I  must  bring  you  to  our  captain's  cave ; 

Fear  not :  he  bears  an  honourable  mind, 

And  will  not  use  a  woman  lawlessly. 
SIL.       0  Valentine,  this  I  endure  for  thee.  {.Exeunt. 

The  scene  then  shifts,  and  shows  Valentine,  alone,  in  another 
part  of  the  forest.  He  is  in  a  sad  mood,  and  utters  a  long 
soliloquy,  when,  being  disturbed  by  the  sound  of  a  noisy  conflict 


"  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona"  89 

(that  turns  out  to  be  the  rescue  of  Silvia  from  the  outlaws  by 
Proteus  and  his  party) ,  he  utters  these  lines  : — 

These  are  my  mates,  that  make  their  will  their  law, 
Have  some  unhappy  passenger  in  chase ; 
They  love  me  well ;  yet  I  have  much  to  do, 
To  keep  them  from  uncivil  outrages. 

Withdraw  thee,  Valentine;  who's  this  comes  here ?  '[Steps  aside. 

Enter  PEOTEUS,  SILVIA  and  JULIA. 

It  must  now  be  mentioned  that  Julia,  the  betrothed  of  Proteus, 
not  having1  heard  from  her  false  lover  for  a  long  while,  had  some 
time  before  left  Verona  disguised  as  a  page,  and  had  succeeded 
in  entering  the  service  of  Proteus,  under  the  name  of  Sebastian, 
in  which  character  she  now  accompanies  him.  With  this  expla- 
nation, and  with  Valentine  listening  in  the  thicket,  we  will  return 
to  the  text. 

PEO.  (to  Silvia).    Madam,  this  service  I  have  done  for  you 

(Though  you  respect  not  aught  your  servant  doth), 

To  hazard  life,  and  rescue  you  from  him 

That  would  have  forced  your  honour  and  your  love. 

Vouchsafe  me,  for  my  meed,  but  one  fair  look ; 

A  smaller  hoon  than  this  I  cannot  beg, 

And  less  than  this,  I  am  sure,  you  cannot  give. 
VAL.  (from  his  concealment).    How  like  a  dream  is  this  I  see  and  hear; 

Love,  lend  me  patience  to  forbear  a  while. 
SIL.    O  miserable,  unhappy  that  I  am  ! 
PEG.  Unhappy  were  you,  madam,  ere  I  came  ; 

But,  by  my  coming,  I  have  made  you  happy. 
SIL.    By  thy  approach  thou  mak'st  me  most  unhappy. 
JUL.   And  me,  when  he  approacheth  to  your  presence.  [Aside. 

SIL.    Had  I  been  seized  by  a  hungry  lion, 

I  would  have  been  a  breakfast  to  the  beast, 

Rather  than  have  false  Proteus  rescue  me. 

0  Heaven  be  Judge,  how  I  love  Valentine, 
Whose  life's  as  tender  to  me  as  my  soul ; 
And  full  as  much  (for  more  there  cannot  be), 

1  do  detest  false  perjured  Proteus : 

Therefore,  begone ;  solicit  me  no  more. 

*  *  *  *  *  *       . 

PEO.  Nay,  if  the  gentle  spirit  of  moving  words 
Can  no  way  change  you  to  a  milder  form, 
I'll  woo  you  like  a  soldier,  at  arms'  end : 
And  love  you  'gainst  the  nature  of  love,  force  you. 

SIL.    O  Heaven  ! 

PEO.  I'll  force  thee  yield  to  my  desire. 


go   Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

VAL.  (discovering  himself).  Ruffian,  let  go  that  rude  uncivil  touch ; 

Thou  friend  of  an  ill  fashion ! 
PEO.  Valentine ; 

YAL.  Thou  common  friend,  that's  without  faith  or  love  ; 

(For  such  is  a  friend  now),  treacherous  man  ! 

Thou  hast  beguiled  my  hopes  ;  nought  but  mine  eye 

Could  have  persuaded  me  :  Now  I  dare  not  say, 

I  have  one  friend  alive  ;  thou  would'st  disprove  me. 

Who  should  be  trusted  now,  when  one's  right  hand 

Is  perjured  to  the  bosom  ?    Proteus, 

I  am  sorry  I  must  never  trust  thee  more, 

But  count  the  world  a  stranger  for  thy  sake. 

The  private  wound  is  deepest.     0  time,  most  curst ; 

'Mongst  all  foes,  that  a  friend  should  be  the  worst. 
PEO.  My  shame  and  guilt  confound  me — 

Forgive  me,  Valentine  ;  if  hearty  sorrow 

Be  a  sufficient  ransom  for  offence, 

I  tender  it  here ;  I  do  as  truly  suffer 

As  e'er  I  did  commit. 
VAL.  Then  I  am  paid  : 

And  once  again  I  do  receive  thee  honest ; 

Who  by  repentance  is  not  satisfied, 

Is  nor  of  heaven,  nor  earth ;  for  these  are  pleased  ; 

By  penitence  the  Eternal's  wrath  's  appeased : 

And,  that  my  love  may  appear  plain  and  free, 

All  that  was  mine  in  Silvia,  I  give  thee. 

JUL.  0  me  unhappy  !  [Faints. 

PEG.  Look  to  the  boy. 

Julia  is  then  discovered.  No  wonder  that  she  fainted  under  the 
indescribable  poltroonery  and  baseness  of  Valentine  in  resigning 
the  devoted  and  heroic  Silvia  to  the  villain  Proteus,  because  the 
latter,  under  a  sense  of  policy  and  fear,  expressed  sudden  contri- 
tion for  his  execrable  crimes.  Proteus,  however,  does  not  think 
it  prudent  to  accept  Silvia  under  such  an  offer  from  the  chief 
of  a  band  of  outlaws;  so  he  makes  a  virtue  of  necessity  by 
renewing  his  fealty  to  Julia  in  about  six  lines.  Whereupon 
Valentine,  finding  that  Proteus  declines  to  receive  Silvia  at 
his  hands,  makes  the  original  lovers  happy  by  joining  them 
together. 

PEO.  O  Heaven !  were  man 

But  constant,  he  were  perfect ;  that  one  error 

Fills  him  with  faults ;  makes  him  run  through  all  sins : 

Inconstancy  falls  off,  ere  it  begins : 

What  is  in  Silvia's  face,  but  I  may  spy 

More  fresh  in  Julia's  with  a  constant  eye  ? 


"  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona"  91 

YAL.  Come,  come,  a  hand  from  either : 

Let  me  be  blest  to  make  this  happy  close ; 

'Tvvere  pity  two  such  friends  should  be  long  foes. 
PEO.  Bear  witness,  Heaven,  I  have  my  wish  for  ever. 
JUL.  And  I  have  mine. 

Everything  being  thus  amicably  settled,  it  unfortunately  hap- 
pens that  those  incorrigible  fellows,  the  outlaws,  suddenly  turn 
up  again  in  another  act  of  villainy. 

Enter  Outlaws,  with  the  DUKE  and  THUBIO. 
OUTLAW.  A  prize,  a  prize,  a  prize  I 

YAL.        Forbear,  forbear,  I  say ;  it  is  my  lord  the  Duke, 
Your  grace  is  welcome  to  a  man  disgraced. 

Thurio,  hereupon  discovering  Silvia,  at  once  lays  claim  to  her, 
but  Valentine,  who  has  suddenly  recovered  his  affection  also, 
threatens  him  with  instant  death  if  he  dare  "  take  but  possession 
of  her  with  a  touch,"  concluding  his  fiery  menace  with — 

"  I  dare  thee  but  to  breathe  upon  my  love !" 

Thurio,  of  course,  gives  Silvia  up ;  upon  which  the  Duke,  in 
disgust  with  his  cowardice,  denounces  him  as  base  and  degenerate, 
and  magnanimously  hands  Silvia  over  to  Sir  Valentine.  Then 
follows  the  climax,  in  the  following  sudden  conversions  to  morality, 
on  the  part  of  the  brigands,  whose  miraculous  repentance  at  once 
receives  a  reward  which  elicits  our  amazement : — 

YAL.      I  thank  your  grace  :  the  gift  hath  made  me  happy. 

I  now  beseech  you,  for  your  daughter's  sake, 

To  grant  one  boon  that  I  shall  ask  of  you. 
DUKE.  I  grant  it  for  thine  own,  whate'er  it  be. 
YAL.      These  banish'd  men,  that  I  have  kept  withal, 

Are  men  endued  with  worthy  qualities  ; 

Forgive  them  what  they  have  committed  here, 

And  let  them  be  recall'd  from  their  exile. 

They  are  reformed,  civil,  full  of  good, 

And  jit  for  great  employment,  worthy  lord. 
DUKE.  Thou  hast  prevail'd  ;  I  pardon  them,  and  thee  : 

Dispose  of  them  as  thou  Icnowest  their  deserts. 

Come,  let  us  go  :  we  will  conclude  all  jars 

"With  triumphs,  mirth,  and  rare  solemnity. 

Now,  as  Valentine  represents  these  outlaws  (who  had  given 
him  so  much  to  do  to  keep  them  from  uncivil  outrage)  to  be  men 
endued  with  worthy  qualities,  and  declares  them  to  be  not  only 


92    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

" reformed,  civil,  and  good."  but  " fit  for  great  employment/' 
the  carte  blanche  which  the  Duke  gives  to  him  to  "  dispose  of 
them"  as  he  "know'st  their  deserts/'  can  hardly  mean  less  than 
the  appointment  of  them  to  positions  under  Government.  A  fine 
request,  truly,  to  make  for  Silvia's  sake,  who  had  been  rudely 
captured  by  these  thieves ;  and  for  a  father  to  make,  who  had 
himself  just  escaped  from  their  attempt  to  rifle  and,  perhaps,  to 
murder  him.  And,  in  order  to  make  sure  that  these  lawless 
rascals  would  have  not  hesitated,  because  of  any  qualms  of  con- 
science, to  have  had  recourse  to  the  latter  extremity,  the  reader 
has  only  to  turn  to  their  own  description  of  themselves  at  the 
opening  of  Act  IV.,  when  they  chose  Valentine  to  be  their  cap- 
tain. But  it  is  no  portion  of  my  task  to  show  the  contradictions 
and  incongruities  of  Shakespeare,  except  where  they  bear  upon 
the  points  we  have  in  hand ;  and  I  have,  therefore,  but  to  say,  in 
excuse  for  the  extent  of  my  extracts  from  the  "  Two  Gentlemen/1' 
that  the  numerous  absurdities  they  exhibit  against  our  poet, 
do  not  seem  to  be  the  logical  product  of  the  mind  of  such  an 
exact  lawyer,  statesman,  and  philosopher  as  Bacon. 


"  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor"  93 


CHAPTER  XL 

"THE  MERUY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR." 

THE  events  of  this  play  are  supposed  to  take  place  between  the 
First  and  Second  Parts  of  "  Henry  IV."  Falstaff  is  still  in 
favour  at  court,  and  the  compliment  of  Ford  on  his  warlike  pre- 
parations must,  says  Mr.  Harness,  allude  to  the  service  he  had 
done  at  Shrewsbury.  Shallow,  Bardolph,  Pistol,  and  Nym  are 
the  same  as  in  the  former  plays,  though  it  is  evident  that  Mrs. 
Quickly,  the  servant  of  Doctor  Caius,  the  French  physician,  is 
quite  a  different  person  from  hostess  Quickly,  of  the  Boar's  Head, 
in  Eastcheap,  who  subsequently  married  Ancient  Pistol.  The 
tradition  respecting  the  origin  of  this  comedy  is  that  Queen 
Elizabeth  was  so  well  pleased  with  the  admirable  character  of 
FalstafF  that  she  ordered  Shakespeare  to  continue  it  and  show 
him  in  love.  To  this  we  owe  "  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  -" 
and,  says  Mr.  Dennis,  who,  in  1702,  somewhat  rearranged  the 
play  under  the  title  of  "The  Comical  Gallant/'  "she  was  so 
eager  to  see  it  acted  that  she  commanded  it  to  be  finished  in 
fourteen  days.""  Tradition  further  says  that  she  was  exceedingly 
pleased  at  its  representation.  All  of  which,  if  true,  must  con- 
vince the  thoughtful  reader  who  has  perused  the  delectable 
dialogues  between  Doll  Tearsheet  and  Sir  John  and  the  free 
language  of  "  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,"  that  the  charm 
exercised  over  her  Majesty  by  such  very  broad  allusions  proves 
her  to  have  been  a  true  daughter  of  Henry  VIII.  Let  me  be 
excused,  therefore,  if  I  quote  a  supporting  picture  of  her  Majesty, 
by  Edward  Dowden,  LL.D.,  Professor  of  English  Literature  in 
the  University  of  Dublin,  and  Vice-President  of  the  new 
Shakespeare  Society,  from  an  admirable  volume,  entitled  "A 
Critical  Study  of  Shakespeare's  Mind  and  Art/'  which  has  just 
(1875)  been  issued  from  the  London  press:— 


94   Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

"  Raleigh  rode  by  the  Queen  in  silver  armour ;  the  Jesuit  Drexilius  esti- 
mated the  value  of  the  shoes  worn  by  this  minion  of  the  English  Cleopatra 
at  six  thousand  six  hundred  gold  pieces." 

Now,  as  Professor  Dowden  is  a  devout  member  of  the  political 
Anglican  Church,  a  very  learned  man  withal,  and  knows 
exactly  what  he  is  writing  about,  I  trust  this  allusion  of  his  to 
the  possible  moral  status  of  the  virgin  Queen  will  not  be  deemed 
disloyal  or  irreverent. 

"  The  Merry  Wives  of  AYindsor  "  is  deserving  of  especial  notice 
from  the  fact  that  it  is  the  only  one  of  Shakespeare's  plays  the 
superior  action  of  which  is  not  devoted  to  kings  and  queens  and 
princes  and  nobles,  but  which  confines  itself  wholly  to  the  ordi- 
nary characters  of  homely  or  middle  life.  It  exhibits  its  rela- 
tions to  our  religious  theory  mainly  in  the  gross  ridicule  which 
it  lavishes  upon  the  Welsh  parson,  Sir  Hugh  Evans,  and  the 
fecundity,  not  to  say  feculence,  of  the  tavern  wit  which  flows 
from  Falstaff  and  his  mates  with  a  readiness  which  does  not 
seem  peculiarly  Baconian. 

Sir  Hugh,  who  is  hardly  a  degree  above  a  mere  buffoon, 
declares  his  sacred  calling  in  the  first  scene  by  saying  to 
Shallow,  "  If  Sir  John  Falstaff  have  committed  disparagements 
unto  you,  /  am  of  the  Churchy  and  will  be  glad  to  do  my  benevo- 
lence, to  make  my  atonements  and  compromises  between  you." 
Further  on  he  is  made  to  profanely  say,  "  The  tevil  and  his  tarn  ! 
what  phrase  is  this  ? "  He  is  next  engaged  in  a  duel  with  the 
French  doctor,  in  order  that  he  may  be  made  the  butt  and 
laughter  of  the  company,  and  then  makes  his  appearance  in  a 
tavern,  with  the  noisy,  vulgar  host  of  which  he  shows  himself 
to  be  thoroughly  cheek  by  jowl.  Shakespeare  never  treats  a 
Catholic  priest  after  this  irreverent  and  unseemly  fashion. 

There  is  not  much  more  to  be  said  of  this  play  from  our 
point  of  view,  save  that  Falstaff  uses  the  term  of  peasant  in  the 
sense  of  cur  against  Ford,  whose  jealousy  is  filling  his"  purse ;  or 
perhaps  to  notice  one  further  of  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell's 
proofs  of  Shakespeare's  legal  acquirements,  in  addition  to  the 
one  quoted  from  the  same  authority  in  the  last  chapter. 

"  In  writing  the  second  scene  of  Act  IV.  of  '  The  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor/  "  says  Lord  Campbell,  "  Shakespeare's  head 
was  so  full  of  the  recondite  terms  of  law  that  he  makes  a  lady 
thus  pour  them  out  in  a  confidential  tete-a-tete  conversation  with 


"  Measure  for  Measure"  95 

another  lady,  while  discoursing  of  the  revenge  they  two  should 
take  upon  an  old  gentleman  (FalstafF)  for  having  made  an  un- 
successful attempt  upon  their  virtue : — 

"  MES.  PAGE.  I'll  have  the  cudgel  hallowed,  and  hung  o'er  the  altar ;  it 
hath  done  meritorious  service. 

"  MES.  FOED.  What  think  you  ?  May  we,  with  the  warrant  of  woman- 
hood, and  the  witness  of  a  good  conscience,  pursue  him  with  any  further 
revenge  ? 

"  MRS.  PAGE.  The  spirit  of  wantonness  is,  sure,  scared  out  of  him  ;  if  the 
devil  have  him  not  in  fee-simple,  with  fine  and  recovery,  he  will  never,  I 
think,  in  the  way  of  waste,  attempt  us  again." 

"  This  Merry  Wife  of  Windsor/'  remarks  his  lordship,  "  is 
supposed  to  know  that  the  highest  estate  which  the  devil  could 
hold  in  any  of  his  victims  was  a  fee-simple,  strengthened  by  fine 
and  recovery.  Shakespeare  himself  may  probably  have  become 
aware  of  the  law  upon  this  subject  when  it  was  explained  to  him 
in  answer  to  questions  he  put  to  the  attorney,  his  master,  while 
engrossing  the  deeds  to  be  executed  upon  the  purchase  of  a 
Warwickshire  estate  with  a  doubtful  title."  * 

Now,  I  have  no  doubt,  for  my  own  part,  that  Shakespeare 
might  have  acquired  as  much  legal  knowledge  as  the  above  indi- 
cates, through  his  own  purchases  of  land.  Fine  and  recovery,  as 
an  artifice  for  perfecting  title  to  land,  was  like,  in  policy  to  the 
legislative  stratagem  known  to  modern  times  as  a  "  motion  to 
reconsider,"  accompanied  by  a  supplementary  motion  to  "  lay  on 
the  table,"  on  the  part  of  a  majority  who  have  just  carried  a 
bill.  The  effect  of  this  device  is,  that  the  bill  is  thus  made 
reasonably  safe  from  further  peril.  Every  man  of  fair  expe- 
rience knows  that. 


"MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE." 

The  date  of  the  production  of  this  fine  play  is  fixed  by  Mr. 
F.  J.  Furnival,2  in  his  "  Trial  Table  of  the  Order  of  William 
Shakespeare's  Plays,"  at  1603,  when  our  poet  was  forty  years  of 
age.  It  was  performed,  says  Gervinius,  in  1604,  but  not  pub- 

1  Lord  Campbell,  pp.  40,  41. 

2  Mr.  Furnival  is  the  Director  of  the  new  Shakespeare  Society  of  London. 


96   Shakespeare^  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

lished  until  1623.  Dr.  Johnson  speaks  of  its  merits  with  such 
indifference  that  it  would  almost  seem  as  if  he  had  never  read  it ; 
while  to  other  equally  competent  critics  it  is  on  a  level,  so  far  as 
the  intellectual  elevation  of  its  language  and  imagery  are  con- 
cerned, with  the  very  finest  productions  of  Shakespeare's  genius. 
To  my  judgment  its  moral  management  is  faulty,  and  the  great 
principle  of  retributive  justice  is  sadly  sacrificed  to  a  weak  fancy 
for  forgiveness;  but  nothing  can  excel  the  exquisite  delicacy, 
combined  with  the  tremendous  illustrative  force,  of  the  language 
allotted  to  Isabella,  who  is  the  main  figure  in  the  piece. 

The  plot  was  familiar  even  before  Shakespeare's  time,  but  he 
undoubtedly  adopted  it  from  Whetstone's  play  of  "  Promos  and 
Cassandra,"  published  in  1578,  which  had  no  success,  and  which 
was  itself  translated  from  an  Italian  novel  by  Geraldi  Cinthio. 
The  main  story  is  that  of  a  pure  sister  pleading  to  a  corrupt 
judge  for  a  condemned  brother's  life,  which  sister  is  allowed  to 
ransom  his  existence  only  by  a  surrender  of  her  chastity  to  that 
functionary.  The  judge,  succeeding  in  his  aim,  then  orders  the 
execution  of  the  brother  (Claudio)  to  take  place,  for  fear  he  may 
seek  revenge  for  "  so  receiving  a  dishonoured  life."  This  is  the 
original  story;  but  Shakespeare  changes  it,  so  that  Isabella,  the 
sister,  when  her  honour  is  at  its  crisis,  sends  a  female  representa- 
tive, in  the  undistinguishing  darkness  of  the  night,  to  perform 
her  expected  part  with  Angelo,  the  judge,  and  thus  herself 
escapes  all  taint.  To  justify  her  pure  mind  to  the  pursuance  of 
this  double  course,  however,  Isabella  acts  under  the  direction  of 
a  holy  friar,  who  provides,  as  her  nocturnal  substitute,  a  maiden 
under  betrothal  to  Lord  Angelo,  the  judge.  The  real  duke  is  the 
disguised  friar  who  counsels  Isabella  to  this  act,  and  who,  when 
he  finds  that  Angelo,  his  deputy,  still  orders  the  sentence  of 
death  to  be  carried  out  against  Claudio,  privately  interposes  his 
authority  with  the  prison  officials,  and  sends  to  Angelo  the  head 
of  a  man  who  had  that  day  died  in  his  cell,  as  Claudio's  head. 
The  severed  head  deceives  Angelo  and  Isabella  both;  where- 
upon the  agonized  and  desperate  girl  bursts  into  threats  of 
personal  vengeance  upon  the  villainous  deputy,  and  is  about 
starting  off  to  execute  them,  when  the  friar,  gently  check- 
ing her  rage,  informs  her  that  the  real  duke  comes  home  on 
the  morrow,  and  advises  her  to  intercept  him,  along  with 
Mariana,  on  his  public  entrance  to  the  city,  and  then  to  con- 


"  Measure  for  Measure"  97 

spicuously  lay  their  wrongs  before  him,  in  the  very  presence  of 
Lord  Angelo. 

This  advice  is  followed  by  Isabella  and  Mariana,  and  as  the 
duke  comes  into  the  city,  surrounded  by  his  nobles,  the  young 
ladies  cast  themselves  before  him,  and,  denouncing  Angelo, 
demand  justice  on  him. 

DUKE.  Eelate  your  wrongs :     In  what  ?    By  whom  ?    Be  brief: 

Here  is  lord  Angelo  shall  give  you  justice ! 

Reveal  yourself  to  him. 
ISAB.  0,  worthy  duke, 

You  bid  me  seek  redemption  of  tbe  devil : 

Hear  me  yourself ;  for  that  which  I  must  speak 

Must  either  punish  me,  not  being  believed, 

Or  wring  redress  from  you  :  hear  me,  O,  hear  me,  here. 
ANG.     My  lord,  her  wits,  I  fear  me,  are  notfirm  : 

She  hath  been  a  suitor  to  me  for  her  brother, 

Cut  off  by  course  of  justice  ! 

ISAB.  By  course  of  justice  I 

ANG.     And  she  will  speak  most  bitterly,  and  strange. 
ISAB.      Most  strange,  but  yet  most  truly,  will  I  speak : 

That  Angelo's  forsworn  ;  is  it  not  strange  ? 

That  Angelo's  a  murderer ;  is  it  not  strange  ? 

That  Angelo  is  an  adulterous  thief, 

An  hypocrite,  a  virgin-violator ; 

Is  it  not  strange,  and  strange  ? 
DUKE.  Nay,  ten  times  strange. 

The  duke  affects  to  disbelieve  Isabella,  and  orders  her  off  to 
prison.  Mariana  is  then  required  to  tell  her  story.  She  there- 
upon recites  her  betrothal  to  Angelo,  and  his  abandonment  of  her 
because  of  the  failure  of  her  fortune.  Next  comes  her  description 
of  the  midnight  consummation  of  her  betrothal  by  keeping 
Isabella's  appointment  with  the  deputy  in  the  dark.  Finally, 
unveiling,  Mariana  shows  her  face  to  Angelo,  and  claims  to  be 
his  wife.  The  duke  hereupon  demands  of  Angelo  if  he  knows 
this  woman. 

ANG.     My  lord,  I  must  confess,  I  know  this  woman ; 

And,  five  years  since,  there  was  some  speech  of  marriage 
Betwixt  myself  and  her  ;  which  was  broke  off, 
Partly,  for  that  her  promised  proportions 
Came  short  of  composition ;  but,  in  chief, 
For  that  her  reputation  ivas  disvalued 
In  levity :  since  which  time  of  five  years 


98     Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

I  never  spake  with  her,  saw  her,  nor  heard  from  her, 
Upon  my  faith  and  honour. 
MAST.  Noble  prince, 

As  there  comes  light  from  heaven,  and  words  from  breath, 
As  there  is  sense  in  truth,  and  truth  in  virtue, 
I  am  affianced  this  man's  wife,  as  strongly 
As  words  could  make  up  vows :  and,  my  good  lord, 
But  Tuesday  night  last  gone,  in  his  garden-house 
He  knew  me  as  a  wife :  As  this  is  true 
Let  me  in  safety  raise  me  from  my  knees  ; 
Or  else  for  ever  be  confixed  here, 
A  marble  monument ! 

ANG.  I  did  but  smile  till  now ; 

Now,  good  my  lord,  give  me  the  scope  of  justice  ; 
My  patience  here  is  touched  :  I  do  perceive, 
These  poor  informal  women  are  no  more 
But  instruments  of  some  more  mightier  member 
That  sets  them  on  :  Let  me  have  way,  my  lord, 
To  find  this  practice  out. 

DUKE.  Ay,  with  all  my  heart ; 

And  punish  them  unto  your  height  of  pleasure. 

The  duke  now  goes  out  on  some  pretence,  but  really  to  resume 
his  friar's  habit,  and  to  presently  return  in  that  disguise.  At  the 
same  time,  from  the  other  side  of  the  stage,  but  still  in  the  cus- 
tody of  officers,  again  comes  Isabella.  Angelo,  on  the  exit  of 
the  duke,  had  at  once  resumed  all  his  former  arrogance,  and  as 
soon  as  he  sets  eyes  upon  the  returning  friar,  of  whom  he  has 
heard  so  much,  and  through  whose  guidance  of  Isabella  and 
Mariana  he  had  suffered  so  much  trouble,  he  assumes  a  lofty 
tone,  and  orders  him  to  be  arrested.  The  duke  being  hustled 
by  the  officers,  is  then  discovered  under  the  friar's  cowl,  and 
being  thus  recognized,  at  once  assumes  his  regal  dignity,  and 
waives  Angelo  from  the  ducal  seat. 

DUKE    (to  Angelo).      Sir,  by  your  leave  : 

Hast  thou  or  word,  or  wit,  or  impudence, 

That  yet  can  do  thee  office  ?     If  thou  hast, 

Kely  upon  it  till  my  tale  be  heard, 

And  hold  no  longer  out. 
ANG.  O  my  dread  lord, 

I  should  be  guiltier  than  my  guiltiness, 

To  think  I  can  be  undiscernible, 

When  I  perceive  your  grace,  like  power  divine, 

Hath  look'd  upon  my  passes  ;  then,  good  prince, 


"  Measure  for  Measure."  99 

No  longer  session  hold  upon  my  shame, 

But  let  my  trial  be  my  own  confession, 

Immediate  sentence  then,  and  sequent  death, 

Is  all  the  grace  I  beg. 
DUKE.  Come  hither,  Mariana : 

Say,  wast  thou  e'er  contracted  to  this  woman  ? 
ANG.     I  was,  my  lord. 
DUKE.  Go  take  her  hence,  and  marry  her  instantly. — 

Do  you  the  office,  friar ;  which  consummate,  • 

Eeturn  him  here  again  : — Go  with  him,  provost. 

[Exeunt  ANGELO,  MAEIANA,  FEIAE  PETER,  and  Provost. 
DUKE.  Come  hither,  -Isabel : 

Your  friar  is  now  your  prince  :  As  I  was  then 

Advertising,  and  holy  to  your  business, 

Not  changing  heart  with  habit,  I  am  still 

Attorney 'd  at  your  service. 
ISAB.  O  give  me  pardon, 

That  I,  your  vassal,  have  employ 'd  and  pain'd 

Your  unknown  sovereignty. 
DUKE.  You  are  pardon'd,  Isabel, 

And  now,  dear  maid,  be  you  as  free  to  us. 

Your  brother's  death,  I  know,  sits  at  your  heart ; 

And  you  may  marvel,  why  I  obscured  myself, 

Labouring  to  save  his  life  ;  and  would  not  rather 

Make  rash  remonstrance  of  my  hidden  power, 

Than  let  him  so  be  lost :     O  most  kind  maid, 

It  was  the  swift  celerity  of  his  death, 

Which  I  did  think  with  slower  foot  came  on. 

That  brain'd  my  purpose  :  But,  peace  be  with  him  ! 

That  life  is  better  life  past  fearing  death, 

Than  that  which  lives  to  fear ;  make  it  your  comfort, 

So  happy  is  your  brother. 

Re-enter  ANGELO,  MAEIANA,  FBIAE  PETEE,  and  Provost. 
ISAB.  I  do,  my  lord. 

DUKE.  For  this  new-married  man,  approaching  here, 

Whose  salt  imagination  yet  hath  wrorig'd 

Your  well- defended  honour,  you  must  pardon 

For  Mariana's  sake ;  but  as  he  adjudged  your  brother, 

(Being  criminal,  in  double  violation 

Of  sacred  chastity  and  of  promise  breach, 

Thereon  dependent,  for  your  brother's  life), 

The  very  mercy  of  the  law  cries  out 

Most  audible,  even  from  his  proper  tongue, 

An  Angela  for  Claudio,  death  for  death. 

Haste  still  pays  haste,  and  leisure  answers  leisure ; 

Like  doth  quit  like,  and  Measure  still  for  Measure. 

Then,  Angelo,  thy  fault's  thus  manifested  ; 


ioo  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Which,  though  thou  would'st  deny,  denies  thee  vantage ; 
We  do  condemn  thee  to  the  very  block 
Where  Claudio  stoop'd  to  death,  and  with  like  haste  ; 
Away  with  him. 

MAEI.  0,  my  most  gracious  lord, 

I  hope  you  will  not  mock  me  with  a  husband  ! 

DUKE.  It  is  your  husband  mock'd  you  with  a  husband  ; 
Consenting  to  the  safeguard  of  your  honour, 
I  thought  your  marriage  fit ;  else  imputation 
For  that  he  knew  you,  might  reproach  your  life, 
And  choke  your  good  to  come ;  for  his  possessions, 
Although  by  confiscation  they  are  ours, 
We  do  instate  and  widow  you  withal, 
To  buy  you  a  better  husband. 

Mariana  hereupon  sweetly  entreats  Isabel  to  help  her  beg  of 
the  duke  the  life  of  Angelo ;  but  the  duke  checks  the  movement 
by  the  following  sublime  rebuke  : — 

DUKE.  Against  all  sense  do  you  importune  her. 

Should  she  kneel  down  in  mercy,  of  this  fact, 
Her  brother's  ghost  his  paved  bed  would  break, 
And  take  her  hence  in  horror. 

Mariana,  nevertheless,  perseveres  and  succeeds  in  touching  the 
deepest  springs  of  Isabella's  saintly  nature,  who,  falling  on  her 
knees  before  the  duke,  thus  addresses  him : — 

ISAB.     Most  bounteous  sir, 

Look,  if  it  please  you,  on  this  man  condemn'd, 

As  if  my  brother  lived ;  I  partly  think 

A  due  sincerity  govern'd  his  deeds, 

Till  he  did  look  on  me ;  since  it  is  so, 

Let  him  not  die :  My  brother  had  but  justice, 

In  that  he  did  the  thing  for  which  he  died ; 

For  Angelo, 

His  act  did  not  o'ertake  his  bad  intent ; 

And  must  be  buried  but  as  an  intent 

That  perish'd  by  the  way ;  thoughts  are  no  subjects, 

Intents  but  merely  thoughts. 
DUKE.  Your  suit's  unprofitable :  stand  ufc,  I  say — 

I  have  bethought  me  of  another  fault : — 

Provost,  how  came  it  Claudio  was  beheaded 

At  an  unusual  hour  ? 

In  a  few  minutes  afterward  Claudio  is  brought  to  life,  par- 
doned, and  handed  over  to  Isabella,  whereupon  the  all-forgiving 


"  Measure  for  Mtfristitfe"'*  '>'  '  \^ 


duke  thus  addresses  her,  and  winds  up  the  situation  with  one 
general  joy  :  — 

DUKE.  And,  for  your  lovely  sake, 

Give  me  your  hand,  and  say  you  will  be  mine, 
He  is  my  brother  too  :  But  fitter  time  for  that. 
By  this,  lord  Angelo  perceives  he's  safe  ; 
Methinks,  I  see  a  quick'ning  in  his  eye  :  — 
Well,  Angelo,  your  evil  quits  you  well  : 
Look  that  you  love  your  wife  ;  her  worth,  worth  yours. 
I  find  an  apt  remission  in  myself. 

It  is  hardly  possible  for  language  to  picture  a  more  base,  blood- 
thirsty, and  unpitying  miscreant  than  Angelo.  To  the  last  mo- 
ment, even  in  the  presence  of  the  duke,  he  maintains  his  villany 
by  misrepresenting  Isabella,  and  by  relentlessly  defaming  the 
character  of  Mariana.  In  fact,  he  does  not  cease  to  lie  against 
them  both,  until  he  is  actually  unmasked  beyond  all  remedy  ; 
and  then,  like  Proteus,  he  suddenly  confesses,  and,  as  every 
reader  must  regret,  is  as  readily  forgiven.  In  this  respect,  the 
moral  of  the  play  is  as  deplorable  as  that  of  the  "Two  Gentlemen 
of  Verona/'  and  through  its  utter  defeat  of  the  principle  of  retri- 
butive justice,  could  hardly  have  been  the  inspiration  of  such  a 
stern  lawyer  as  Lord  Bacon.  With  Shakespeare,  however,  a  big- 
natured,  good-tempered  man,  with  a  prodigious  and  sympathetic 
genius,  but  scarcely  any  conscience,  this  pleasant  rounding  of 
the  whole  story  was  a  natural  inclination.  By  following  this 
course,  which,  it  may  be  remarked,  was  usual  with  our  poet  in 
the  earlier  part  of  his  career  (indeed,  until  he  arrived  at  the 
period  of  his  deepest  tragedies),  he  evinced  an  unruffled  serenity 
of  character.  It  may  also  be  observed,  that  in  preferring  these 
happy  terminations,  Shakespeare  evinces  one  form  of  the  art  of 
theatrical  management  by  sending  his  audiences  home  pleased, 
thus  unconsciously  testifying  to  the  tender  and  generous 
nature  of  the  people. 

But  something,  at  the  same  time,  let  me  add,  is  due  to  the 
principle  of  justice;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  Coleridge  is 
right  when  he  says  "  that  sincere  repentance  on  the  part  of  An- 
gelo was  impossible/"'  and  therefore  regrets  that  the  unparelleled 
villain  was  not  executed.  But  Gervinius  finds  excuse  for  the 
mercy  of  the  duke  in  the  fact  that,  "  apart  from  poetry/'  such  a 
doom  would  not  have  been  in  strict  conformity  with  either  law  or 
8 


V  skdfotyearv;*fr&jtf<dn  American  Point  of  View. 

justice.  Gervinius'  position  is,  that  Angelo's  double  crime — the 
intended  disgrace  of  Isabella  and  the  death  of  Claudio — had  not 
been  carried  out,  and  that  he  had  been  consequently  guilty  only 
in  intent.  But  this  argument  does  not  justify  his  pardon,  for 
Angelo  had  executed  Claudio  as  far  as  his  bloody  and  merciless 
purpose  could  do  so,  and  had  consummated,  with  Mariana,  the 
very  crime  for  which,  under  the  statutes  of  Vienna,  Claudio  had 
been  condemned.  Nevertheless,  it  must  be  admitted  that  the 
penalty  for  this  last  particular  offence  could  hardly  have  been 
administered  by  the  duke,  who,  in  the  habit  of  a  friar,  had  advised 
it.  Regarding  the  play  as  a  whole,  however,  we  may  safely 
conclude  that  it  does  not  inculcate  either  statesmanship  or  law ; 
at  any  rate,  not  such  statesmanship  or  logical  exactitude  as 
might  be  expected  to  make  their  development  from  the  mind  of 
Sir  Francis  Bacon. 

I  may  here  observe,  I  find  but  one  instance  in  this  play  bear- 
ing upon  Shakespeare's  low  estimate  of  the  people ;  and  that 
occurs  in  the  first  scene  of  the  first  act,  when  the  duke  is  about 
going  into  retirement,  or,  to  speak  more  strictly,  when  he  is 
about  assuming  his  incognito,  under  the  name  of  Friar  Lode- 
wick  : — 

DUKE.  I  love  the  people, 

But  do  not  love  to  stage  me  to  their  eyes. 
Though  it  do  well,  I  do  not  relish  well 
Their  loud  applause  and  aves  vehement. 

But  this  is  only  a  just  sneer  at  popular  servility,  especially  as  it 
must  have  shown  itself  to  the  duke. 

SHAKESPEARE'S  LAW,  I. 

Lord  Campbell,  in  his  essay  examining  the  legal  acquirements 
of  Shakespeare,  presents  four  instances,  which  he  considers 
rather  as  affirmative.  One  of  these  was  treated  in  Chapter  IX., 
and  consisted  of  the  line  "  good  counsellors  need  no  clients  ";  the 
other  three  are  as  follows : 

II. 

Says  Campbell,  "In  Act  II.  Scene  1,  the  ignorance  of  special 
pleading  and  of  the  nature  of  actions  at  law  betrayed  by  Elbow 
Ihe  constable,  when  slandered,  is  ridiculed  by  the  LordEscalus  in 


"  Measure  for  Measure"  103 

a  manner  which  proves  that  the  composer  of  the  dialogue  was 
himself  fully  initiated  in  these  mysteries  :" — 

ELBOW.  Oh,  thou  caitiff!  Oh,  thou  varlet !  Oh,  thou wicked  Hannibal ! 
I  respected  with  her,  before  I  was  married  to  her? — If  ever  I  was  respected 
with  her,  or  she  with  me,  let  not  your  worship  think  me  the  poor  duke's 
officer : — Prove  this,  thou  wicked  Hannibal,  or  I'll  have  mine  action  of  battery 
on  thee. 

ESCAL.  If  he  took  you  a  box  o'  the  ear,  you  might  have  your  action  of 
slander  too. 

III. 

"  The  manner  in  which,  in  Act  III.  Scene  £,  Escalus  desig- 
nates and  talks  of  Angelo,  with  whom  he  was  joined  in  com- 
mission as  Judge,  is,"  continues  Lord  Campbell,  "  so  like  the 
manner  in  which  one  English  judge  designates  and  talks  of 
another,  that  it  countenances  the  supposition  that  Shakespeare 
may  often,  as  an  attorney's  clerk,  have  been  in  the  presence  of 
English  judges :" — 

ESCAL.  Provost,  my  brother  Angela  will  not  be  altered ;  Claudio  must  die 

to-morrow If  my  brother  wrought  by  my  pity,  it  should  not  be  so 

with  him I  have  laboured  for  the  poor  gentlemen  to  the  extremest 

shore  of  my  modesty ;  but  my  brother  justice  have  I  found  so  severe,  that  he 
hath  forced  me  to  tell  him  that  he  is  indeed  JUSTICE. 

IV. 

(C  Even  when  Shakespeare  is  most  solemn  and  sublime,"  adds 
his  lordship,  "his  sentiments  and  language  seem  sometimes  to 
take  a  tinge  from  his  early  pursuits,  as  may  be  observed  from  a 
beautiful  passage  in  this  play ;  which,  lest  I  should  be  thought 
guilty  of  irreverence,  I  do  not  venture  to  comment  upon  :" — 

ISAB.  (to  Angelo.)  Alas !  alas ! 

Why,  all  the  souls  that  were,  were  forfeit  once; 
And  He  that  might  the  'vantage  best  have  took, 
Found  out  the  remedy.     How  would  you  be, 
If  He,  which  is  the  top  of  judgment,  should 
But  judge  you  as  you  are  ?    Oh,  think  on  that, 
And  mercy  then  will  breathe  within  your  lips, 
Like  man  new  made ! 

I  do  not  think  that  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell  has  done 
himself  much  credit,  by  citing  the  above  four  cases  in  proof  of 
Shakespeare's  law  learning.8 

3  Lord  Campbell,  pp.  42,  43. . 


IO4  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

But  the  great  figure  in  the  play — the  figure  which  stands  in 
towering  dignity  and  purity  and  beauty  above  all  others,  and 
above  all  other  of  Shakespeare's  women,  is  Isabella,  the  nun,  or 
rather,  the  young  novitiate  of  the  convent  of  St.  Clare.  It 
seems  to  me,  that  if  Shakespeare  had  any  method,  beyond  the 
mere  usual  waywardness  of  his  plots,  it  was  his  object  in  this 
play  to  develope,  through  the  characters  of  Isabella  and  the  Duke, 
his  views  of  the  beautiful  philosophy  of  the  Catholic  religion. 
In  his  portraiture  of  the  villain  Angelo,  he,  on  the  other  hand, 
paints  a  perfect  picture  of  Puritan  hypocrisy. 

Lord  Angelo  is  precise; 
Stands  at  a  guard  with  envy ;  scarce  confesses 
That  his  blood  flows,  or  that  his  appetite 
Is  more  to  bread  than  stone. 

And  this  oblique  sarcasm  against  the  Puritans  is  again  re- 
peated, says  Dr.  Farmer,  in  the  Constable's  account  of  Master 
Froth  and  the  Clown :  "  Precise  villains  they  are,  that  I  am 
sure  of;  and  void  of  all  profanation  in  the  world  that  good 
Christians  ought  to  have/' 

The  opening  of  "  Measure  for  Measure  "  finds  Isabella  under- 
going her  religious  probation  in  that  tranquil  half-way  house  upon 
the  road  to  heaven,  the  convent  of  St.  Clare.  She  is  conversing 
sweetly  with  the  nuns  upon  the  sacred  mysteries  that  are  just 
unfolding  to  her  virgin  comprehension,  when  she  is  suddenly 
interrupted  by  a  rude  clangour  at  the  convent  gate.  This  comes 
to  summon  her  back  to  the  stirring  world  in  order  that  she  may 
make  solicitation  of  the  newly-appointed  savage  deputy  for  her 
brother's  life.  She  cannot  choose  but  yield  to  the  appeal ;  but 
going  out,  never  comes  back,  having  learned  "  that  in  the  world 
may  be  found  a  discipline  more  strict,  more  awful  than  the 
discipline  of  the  convent ;  having  also  learned  that  the  world  has 
need  of  her ;  that  her  life  is  still  a  consecrated  life,  and  that  the 
vital  energy  of  her  heart  can  exert  and  augment  itself  as  Duchess 
of  Vienna  more  fully  than  in  conventual  seclusion." 4  In  speak- 
ing of  "  Measure  for  Measure,"  Drake  says  that  "  the  great 
charm  of  the  play  springs  from  the  lovely  example  of  female 
excellence  exhibited  in  the  person  of  Isabella.  Piety,  spotless 
purity,  tenderness  combined  with  firmness,  and  an  eloquence 

4  Dowden's  "Mind  and  Art  of  Shakespeare,"  pp.  83,  84. 


"  Measure  for  Measure?  105 

most  persuasive,  unite  to  render  her  singularly  interesting  and 
attractive.  C'est  un  ange  de  lumiere  sous  I' humble  habit  d'une 
novice.  To  save  the  life  of  her  brother  she  hastens  to  quit  the 
peaceful  seclusion  of  her  convent,  and  moves  amid  the  votaries  of 
corruption  and  hypocrisy,  amid  the  sensual,  the  vulgar,  and  the 
profligate,  as  a  being  of  a  higher  order,  as  a  ministering  spirit 
from  the  throne  of  grace/1' 

Knight,  in  alluding  to  Isabella,  says  that  "  the  foundation  of 
her  character  is  religion.  Out  of  that  sacred  source  springs 
her  humility — her  purity,  which  cannot  understand  oblique  pur- 
poses and  suggestions — her  courage — her  passionate  indignation 
at  the  selfishness  of  her  brother,  who  would  have  sacrificed  her  to 
attain  his  own  safety.  It  is  in  the  conception  of  such  a  character 
that  we  see  the  transcendant  superiority  of  Shakespeare  over 
other  dramatists.  The  ( thing  enskied  and  sainted '  was  not  for 
any  of  his  greatest  contemporaries  to  conceive  and  delineate." 

And  yet,  Shakespeare  made  this  female  masterpiece — this 
religious  paragon,  this  beau  ideal  of  his  genius — &  nun;  and 
while  escorting  her  with  solemn  dignity  throughout  her  scenes, 
he  commands  silence  and  bent  heads  for  every  allusion  to  the 
E/omish  faith.  In  comment  upon  this  fact,  it  may  be  remarked, 
that  if  a  mere  playwright  might  venture  upon  such  developments 
of  Catholic  saintliness  in  the  midst  of  a  Puritan  age,  Bacon  could 
hardly  have  lost  favour  with  Elizabeth  or  James  by  openly 
claiming  the  authorship  of  the  Shakespeare  plays  himself. 


io6  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"COMEDY  OF  ERRORS." 

THE  date  of  this  play  is  put  down  in  FurnivaFs  Table  at 
1589-91,  but  it  was  not  published  until  the  appearance  of  the 
folio  of  1623.  It  is  mentioned  in  a  work  by  Francis  Meares,  in 
1598,  and  was  performed  at  Court  in  December,  1604,  before 
King  James. 

The  story  of  the  piece  is  taken  from  the  Mensechmi  of  Plautus, 
the  old  Roman  dramatist,  though  it  differs  from  that  production 
to  the  extent  of  adding  to  the  two  twin  Antipholuses  of  the 
Roman  play,  two  twin  Dromios  also. 

It  has  by  this  time  been  observed  by  the  reader  that  Shake- 
speare exhibits  a  perfect  indifference  about  the  origin  of  the  plots 
of  his  plays,  He  adopts  without  scruple  any  fable  he  can  lay  his 
hands  upon,  and  appears  to  be  governed  entirely  in  the  composi- 
tion of  his  pieces  by  the  aim  of  making  a  production  which  will 
be  amusing  to  his  audiences.  In  fact,  he  clearly  disdains  narra- 
tive as  the  lowest  form  of  composition,  and  seems  always  willing 
to  allow  any  one  to  help  him  to  his  story.  It  is  his  task  to  raise  the 
structure  after  others  have  sunk  the  foundation ;  to  enlarge  it  by 
the  expanding  pressure  of  his  mind,  and  embroider  the  surface 
with  his  matchless  imagery.  Even  a  ballad  was  quite  enough 
for  him  to  build  upon ;  for  there  was  no  end  either  to  the  re- 
sources of  his  invention  or  the  productiveness  of  his  fancy. 
Indeed,  every  writer  of  any  imagination  knows  for  himself  that  a 
tale  once  begun  may  be  reeled  off  with  undisturbed  facility ;  or,  to 
use  Shakespeare's  own  language  in  Falstaff,  may  be  continued  on 
"  as  easy  as  lying."  Witness,  in  evidence  of  this,  the  prolific 
romance  department  in  the  thousand  and  one  of  modern  weekly 
newspapers. 

The  "  Comedy   of  Errors "    bears   evidence   of   having  been 


"  Comedy  of  Errors"  107 

hastily  and  carelessly  written.  It  is  full  of  anachronisms  and  of 
geographical  contradictions ;  and  though  laid  in  the  old  Roman 
days  it  has  allusions  to  America  and  the  Indies ;  while  one  of 
the  Dromios  calls  his  female  kitchen -friends  in  the  city  of 
Ephesus  by  the  broad  English,  Irish,  and  Scotch  names  of 
"  Maud,  Bridget,  Marian,  Cicely,  Gillian,  and  Jen." 

The  plot  of  the  play  and  its  staring  absurdities  make  an  abso- 
lute mockery  of  the  fine  speculations  which  the  German  critics 
are  so  fond  of  indulging  in,  as  to  the  profound  theories  which 
Shakespeare  always  intended  to  convey  through  his  plays,  for  the 
instruction  of  mankind.  Here  we  have  him  presenting  two 
couples  of  men,  who  have  been  living  apart  from  each  other  in 
strange  countries  for  nearly  thirty  years — who,  if  they  do  look 
alike,  must  necessarily  bear  themselves  differently,  talk  differently, 
walk  differently,  and  dress  differently — and  these,  he  asks  us  to 
believe,  succeed  in  deceiving  everybody  as  to  their  separate  iden- 
tities and  even  in  baffling  the  familiar  scrutiny  of  their  wives  and 
mistresses !  In  my  opinion,  a  writer  who  is  thus  careless  of  con- 
gruities,  and  who  presents  his  themes  without  any  regard  to  the 
possibilities  of  human  belief,  is  not  engaged  in  the  task  of  giving 
abstruse  lessons  in  philosophy.  The  legal  lore  of  the  play,  more- 
over, however  much  it  may  impress  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell, 
seems  to  me  to  be  actually  law  run  mad.  Creditors  commence 
process  against  debtors  before  constables,  in  the  street,  by  word  of 
mouth,  and  the  constable,  upon  receiving  a  money  fee  from  the 
plaintiff,  issues  process  of  arrest  out  of  hand,  and  discharges  the 
debtor  with  equal  readiness  upon  having  the  judgment  satisfied 
with  cash — thus  excusing  all  function  from  the  court. 

Act  IV.     Scene  1. — Ephesus. 

ANTIPHOLUS  and  DBOMIO,  of  Ephesus ;  a  Merchant ;  ANGELO,  a  Gold- 
smith; and  an  Officer. 

MEBCH.  (pointing  to  ANTIPHOLUS  OF  E.,  ivhom  he  charges  with  owing 
him  the  price  of  a  gold  chain). 

Well,  officer,  arrest  him  at  my  suit. 

OFF.      I  do  ;  and  charge  you  in  the  duke's  name,  to  obey  me. 
ANG.     This  touches  me  in  reputation : — 

Either  consent  to  pay  this  sum  to  me, 
Or  I  attach  you  by  this  officer. 
ANT.  E.  Consent  to  pay  thee  that  I  never  had ! 
Arrest  me,  foolish  fellow,  if  thou  dar'st. 
ANG.      Here  is  thy  fee  ;  arrest  him,  officer ;— 


io8  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

I  would  not  spare  my  brother  in  this  case, 

If  he  should  scorn  me  so  apparently. 
OFF.      I  do  arrest  you,  sir ;  you  hear  the  suit. 
ANT.  E.  I  do  obey  they,  till  I  give  thee  bail : — 

But,  sirrah,  you  shall  buy  this  sport  as  dear 

As  all  the  metal  in  your  shop  will  answer. 
ANG.     Sir,  sir,  I  shall  have  law  in  Ephesus, 

To  your  notorious  shame,  I  doubt  it  not. 

•  Nevertheless,  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell  discovers  several 
evidences  in  this  play  of  Shakespeare's  knowledge  of  law.  He  finds, 
in  Act  II.  Scene  2,  another  allusion  to  "fine  and  recovery;  "  in 
Act  IV.  Scene  2,  lie  detects  more  law  in  Dromio's  description  of 
the  above  arrest  of  his  master  in  his  use  of  the  phrases  of  "  before 
the  judgment"  and  " rested  on  the  case'9  further  explaining  that 
he  has  been  arrested  on  a  bond;  yet,  "  not  on  a  bond,  but  on  a 
stronger  thing :  a  chain,  a  chain ! "  Now  listen  to  Lord 
Campbell : — 

et  Here,"  says  his  lordship,  "  we  have  a  most  circumstantial 
and  graphic  account  of  an  English  arrest  on  mesne  process  ["  be- 
fore judgment"],  in  an  action  on  the  case,  for  the  price  of  a  gold 
chain  by  a  sheriff 's  officer  or  bum-bailiff  in  his  buff  costume,  and 
carrying  his  prisoner  to  a  sponging-house — a  spectacle  which 
might  often  have  been  seen  by  an  attorney's  clerk/' 

I  hope  I  may  be  excused  for  thinking  that  Lord  Campbell  does 
not  do  himself  much  credit  by  this  specimen  of  his  critical 
acumen.  He  doubtless  correctly  describes  the  nature  of  an 
arrest  on  mesne  process,  but  there  is  no  evidence  that  Shakespeare 
understood  all  the  intricacies  of  that  process,  because  one  of  his 
clowns  utters  a  surface  reference  to  it  through  the  use  of  a  cur- 
rent phrase,  any  more  than  there  would  be  in  supposing  a  man  to 
know  the  geological  strata  of  Mount  Caucasus  because  he  mentions 
it  by  name.  But  one  thing  is  certain  (however  far  these  technical 
expressions  may  be  construed  to  go),  that  there  is  not  virtue 
enough  in  these  mere  terms  of  law  to  overbalance  the  monstrous 
absurdity  of  allowing  tipstaves  to  issue  process  for  debt,  and  then 
to  hold  court  for  the  purpose  of  taking  bail  in  the  streets.  I 
cannot  bring  myself  to  believe  that  Lord  Bacon,  or  any  other 
lawyer,  who  knew  the  philosophy  of  law,  would  have  built  any 
story  upon  such  a  ridiculous  foundation  as  this. 

And  I  may  add  that  neither  could  Bacon,  as  an  experienced 
traveller  and  scholar,  have  made  the  geographical  mistakes  with 


"  Comedy  of  Errors."  109 

which  this  and  other  of  the  Shakespeare  plays  abound.  Certainly 
his  chronology  would  not  have  been  so  bad  as  to  have  alluded  to 
rapiers,  striking-  clocks,  and  ducats,  as  having  been  in  use  in  the 
early  days  of  Ephesus. 

There  is  but  little  more  for  me  to  notice  in  this  play  as  bearing 
upon  my  objective  points,  further  than  that,  the  epithet  of  peasant 
is  twice  opprobriously  used  in  it,  as  likewise  is  the  term  of 
slave,  in  application  to  ordinary  honest  serving-men.  I  must  not 
omit  to  observe,  however,  that  the  Roman  Catholic  religion  is 
most  gracefully  introduced  towards  the  close  of  the  play,  in  the 
person  of  an  abbess,  who  gives  sanctuary  to  one  of  the  heroes  of 
the  piece,  and  refuses  to  release  him  at  the  clamour  of  his  wife, 
even  when  threatened  with  the  power  of  the  duke. 

ADE.     Then  let  your  servants  bring  my  husband  forth. 
ABB.     Neither ;  he  took  this  place  for  sanctuary, 

And  it  shall  privilege  him  from  your  hands, 

Till  I  have  brought  him  to  his  *wits  again, 

Or  lose  my  labour  in  assaying  it. 
ADE.     I  will  attend  my  husband,  be  his  nurse, 

Diet  his  sickness,  for  it  is  my  office, 

And  will  have  no  attorney  but  myself; 

And  therefore  let  me  have  him  home  with  me. 
ABB.     Be  patient :  for  I  will  not  let  him  stir, 

Till  I  have  used  the  approved  means  I  have. 

With  wholesome  syrups,  drugs,  and  holy  prayers, 

To  make  of  him  a  formal  man  again  : 

It  is  a  branch  and  parcel  of  mine  oath, 

A  charitable  duty  of  my  order  ; 

Therefore  depart,  and  leave  him  here  with  me. 
ADE.     I  will  not  hence,  and  leave  my  husband  here : 

And  ill  it  doth  beseem  your  hoKness, 

To  separate  the  husband  and  the' wife. 
ABB.     Be  quiet,  and  depart,  thou  shalt  not  have  him.    [Exit  ABBESS. 

By-and-by  the  duke  and  his  train  arrive,  whereupon  the  esti- 
mable abbess  comes  out  of  the  abbey  with  Antipholus  of  Ephesus. 
But  Shakespeare  continues  her  as  mistress  of  the  situation,  and 
thus  winds  up  the  main  action  of  the  piece : — 

ABBESS.  Eenowned  duke,  vouchsafe  to  take  the  pains 
To  go  with  us  into  the  abbey  here, 
And  hear  at  large  discoursed  all  our  fortunes: 
And  all  that  are  assembled  at  this  place, 
That  by  this  sympathized  one  day's  error 
Have  suffer'd  wrong,  go,  keep  us  company, 
And  we  shall  make  full  satisfaction. 


1 10  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

"MIDSUMMER  NIGHT'S  DREAM." 

The  production  of  this  charming  comedy  is  variously  assigned 
by  Drake,  Malone,  and  Schlegel  to  1592,  1593,  and  1594;  but 
Elze,  more  accurately,  as  I  think,  places  it  in  the  spring  of  1590, 
when  Shakespeare  was  twenty-six  years  of  age,  affirming  that  it 
was  written  as  a  masque  or  revel  to  be  performed  at  the  wedding 
of  the  Earl  of  Essex  with  Lady  Sidney.  This  was  a  common 
custom  with  the  aristocracy  of  Elizabeth's  time,  and  the  follow- 
ing closing  lines  of  Oberon,  the  fairy  king,  in  compliment  to 
the  marriage  of  Theseus  and  Hyppolita,  would  seem  to  confirm 
the  idea  that  it  was  written  by  our  poet  to  grace  some  marriage 
feast : — 

BEEON".  Now,  until  the  break  of  day, 

Through  this  house  each  fairy  stray. 

To  the  best  bride-bed  will  we, 

Which  by  us  shall  blessed  be ; 

And  the  issue  there  create, 

Ever  shall  be  fortunate. 

So  shall  all  the  couples  three 

Ever  true  in  loving  be  ; 

And  the  blots  of  nature's  hand 

Shall  not  in  their  issue  stand; 

Never  mole,  hare-lip,  or  scar, 

Nor  mark  prodigious,  such  as  are 

Despised  in  nativity, 

Shall  upon  their  children  be. — 

With  this  field  dew  consecrate, 

Every  fairy  take  his  gait ; 

And  each  several  chamber  bless, 

Through  this  palace  with  sweet  peace  : 

Ever  shall  in  safety  rest, 

And  the  owner  of  it  blest. 

The  first  thing  which  appears  in  this  play  touching  the  points 
of  our  inquiry,  is  a  legal  expression  that  falls  from  the  father  of 
Hermia  in  the  first  scene  of  the  first  act,  when  he  appeals  to  the 
duke  to  require  his  daughter  to  obey  his  wishes  by  marrying 
with  Demetrius,  or  else  to  grant  against  her,  for  the  sin  of  dis- 
obedience,— 

"  Her  death,  according,  to  our  law, 
Immediately  provided  in  that  case" 

Both  Steevens  and  Lord  Campbell  receive  this  expression  as  a 


"  Midsummer  Night's  Dream"  \  \  \ 

proof  that  Shakespeare  had  served  in  an  attorney's  office ;  and 
the  latter  remarks  that  "  there  is  certainly  no  nearer  approach  in 
heroic  measure  to  the  technical  language  of  an  indictment." 

This  legal  incident  is  then  immediately  followed  by  the  follow- 
ing reverent  allusion  to  the  Roman  Catholic  religion,  though 
the  scene  of  the  play  is  laid  in  early  Greece.  The  duke,  Theseus, 
thus  impresses  upon  Hermia  the  necessity  of  conforming  to  her 
father's  will : — 

THESEUS.  Either  to  die  the  death,  or  to  abjure 
For  ever  the  society  of  men. 
Therefore,  fair  Hermia,  question  your  desires, 
Know  of  your  youth,  examine  well  your  blood, 
Whether,  if  you  yield  not  to  your  father's  choice, 
You  can  enjoy  the  livery  of  a  nun; 
For  aye  to  be  in  shady  cloister  mew'd, 
To  live  a  barren  sister  all  your  life, 
Chanting  faint  hymns  to  the  cold,  fruitless  moon. 
Thrice  blessed  they,  that  master  so  their  blood 
To  undergo  such  maiden  pilgrimage  ; 
But  earthlier  happy  is  the  rose  distill'd, 
Than  that  which,  withering  on  the  virgin  thorn, 
Grows,  lives,  and  dies  in  single  blessedness. 

HEE.          So  will  I  grow,  so  live,  so  die,  my  lord, 
Ere  I  will  yield  my  virgin  patent  up 
Unto  his  lordship. 

.  One  cannot  help  remarking  here  that  a  threatened  imprison- 
ment of  Hermia  for  life  in  a  state  prison  would  have  been  fully 
adequate  to  all  the  necessities  of  the  scene,  instead  of  bringing 
in  a  nunnery.  So  also  would  a  prison  have  equally  served  the 
purposes  of  the  last  act  of  the  "  Comedy  of  Errors/'  in  place  of 
the  abbey ;  but  Shakespeare  evidently  wanted  to  patronize  the 
Catholic  religion. 

The  next  evidence  we  have  bearing  on  our  points  are  the  lines  at 
the  conclusion  of  the  same  act,  which  show  Shakespeare's  intimate 
knowledge  of  stage  business ;  first,  in  Snug's  inquiry  if  the 
lion's  part  has  been  written  out  (i.  e.  copied)  for  him ;  and  next, 
in  the  arrangements  made  by  Bottom  and  his  mates  in  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  written  (copied)  parts  for  the  actors;  likewise  in 
the  provision  of  a  "bill  of  properties"  needed  for  their  play 
before  the  duke.  All  of  this  throws  Bacon  out  of  our  considera- 
tion, so  far  as  this  composition  is  concerned,  and  at  the  same 


H2  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

time  disposes  of  the  fiction  of  Shakespeare's  "  fair  round  hand," 
which  the  players  reported  of  his  manuscript,  and  which,  accord- 
ing to  many  of  his  critics,  showed  that  his  mind  flowed  with 
such  a  smooth  felicity  '"that  he  never  blotted  out  a  line."  This 
idea  serves  the  purposes  of  the  Baconians  by  making  it  appear 
that  Shakespeare  merely  copied  out  the  manuscript  of  Bacon. 

The  course  of  our  scrutiny  now  brings  us  to  the  first  distinct 
illustrations  of  Shakespeare's  low  estimation  of  the  mechanical 
and  labouring  classes — the  classes  which,  in  the  United  States, 
are  justly  esteemed  to  be  not  the  least  honest,  virtuous,  and 
patriotic  of  the  community.  This  tendency  of  our  poet  appears 
in  the  underplot  of  Bottom  and  the  Athenian  mechanics  who 
have  been  selected  to  perform  before  the  newly-married  pair  on 
the  classical  subject  of  Pyramus  and  Thisbe,  upon  the  calculation 
that  their  ignorance  would  certainly  burlesque  it.  We  have 
already  had  an  introduction  to  these  simple-hearted  fellows  in 
the  second  scene  of  the  first  act,  on  the  occasion  of  the  distribu- 
tion of  their  several  dramatic  parts ;  and  we  now  find  them,  at 
the  opening  of  the  third  act,  ready  for  rehearsal,  in  the  wood, 
near  where  the  fairies  are  lying  around  asleep.  While  the 
working  men  are  thus  engaged,  Puck,  the  fairy  messenger  and 
factotum,  enters  from  behind,  and  in  a  tone  of  contempt  which 
must  have  been  graciously  appreciated  by  Essex  and  the  rest  of 
the  Elizabethan  company,  Master  Puck  thus  characterizes  the 
hard-handed  men  who  are  doing  their  best  to  please  their  lordly 
patrons : — 

PUCK.     What  hempen  homespuns  have  we  swaggering  here, 
So  near  the  cradle  of  the  fairy  queen  ? 

Puck,  in  the  next  scene,  reports  to  Oberon  the  laughable 
metamorphosis  he  had  made  of  Bottom,  and  his  still  more  ludi- 
crous exploit  of  having  caused  Titania  to  fall  in  love  with 
him  : — 

PUCK.    My  mistress  with  a  monster  is  in  love. 
Near  to  her  close  and  consecrated  bower, 
While  she  was  in  her  dull  and  sleeping  hour, 
A  crew  of  patches,  rude  mechanicals, 
That  work  for  bread  upon  Athenian  stalls, 
Were  met  together  to  rehearse  a  play, 
Intended  for  great  Theseus'  nuptial  day. 
The  shalloitfd  thick-skin  of  that  barren  sort, 


" Midsummer  Night's  Dream"  113 

Who  Pyramus  presented,  in  their  sport 
Forsook  his  scene,  and  enter'd  in  a  brake : 
When  I  did  him  at  this  advantage  take, 
An  ass's  nowl  I  fixed  on  his  head. 

Puck  continues  his  report,  as  to  the  way  he  had  carried  out 
Oberon's  other  orders  concerning  Demetrius  and  Helena ;  but  he 
changes  his  contemptuous  tone  at  once  to  one  of  severe  respect 
when  he  refers  to  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  story.  This 
treatment  of  the  case  by  Shakespeare  is  explainable  either  through 
the  spontaneous  servility  he  always  shows  to  rank  and  birth,  or, 
perhaps,  to  the  more  excusable  object  of  having  to  cater  to 
audiences  of  a  people  who  are  born  worshippers  of  wealth  and 
station,  and  the  masses  of  whom  to  this  day  seem  to  like  nothing 
so  much  as  to  look  upon  a  lord. 


H4  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"THE  MERCHANT  otf  VENICE." 

THIS  remarkable  play  was  produced  in  1596,  and  published,  for 
the  first  time,  in  the  year  1600.  It  was  regarded  as  a  comedy, 
and  probably  was  written  as  such,  the  character  of  Shylock  being 
originally  consigned  to  a  low  comedian.  The  enjoyment  and 
laughter  of  its  audiences  were  obtained  consequently  from  the 
sufferings  and  discomfiture  of  the  detested  Jew.  In  degree, 
however,  as  the  prejudice  against  the  Hebrews  lifted,  "The 
Merchant  of  Venice  "  gradually  assumed  the  title  of  "  a  play," 
and  latterly,  the  role  of  Shylock  has  been  entrusted  only  to  the 
leading  tragedians  of  the  day.  There  is  a  world  of  moral  in 
these  simple  facts. 

The  plot,  or  story,  has  two  leading  incidents,  both  of  which 
Shakespeare,  with  his  contempt  for  mere  narration,  has  taken 
bodily  from  foreign  sources.  The  main  action  of  the  play  is 
devoted  to  the  fable  of  "  Antonio  the  Merchant,"  borrowing  a 
sum  of  money  from  Shylock,  the  Jew,  to  help  his  penniless 
friend,  Bassanio,  to  inveigle  the  affections  of  a  lady  of  exceeding 
wealth.  The  Jew,  who  has  been  much  abused  by  Antonio  for 
taking  usury,  proposes  to  take  no  interest  from  the  borrower, 
either  in  order  to  recover  his  good  will,  or  in  the  event  of  his 
failing  to  pay,  to  catch  him  at  a  deadly  disadvantage.  Indeed,  he 
asks  no  security,  except  such  as  is  to  be  found  in  the  agree- 
ment, but  consents  to  accept,  in  lieu  of  the  loan,  a  pound 
of  Antonio's  flesh,  to  be  cut  by  the  creditor  from  off  his  breast. 
This  foolish  fiction,  so  repugnant  to  all  the  philosophy  of 
law,  is  taken  from  an  Italian  novel,  published  by  Giovanni, 
two  hundred  years  before  Shakespeare's  time ;  while  the  secon- 
dary plot,  in  which  the  lady  courted  by  Bassanio  is  subjected 
to  the  choice  of  any  lover  who  is  lucky  enough  to  guess  one  out 
of  three  caskets  that  contains  her  picture,  is,  if  possible,  more 
trivial  still.  But  this  is  the  kind  of  thing  which  Shakespeare 

r-^    tt.r 


"  The  Merchant  of  Venice''  \ \ 5 

would  constantly  perpetrate  in  the  matter  of  his  plots ;  and  we  are 
therefore  justified  in  the  conclusion,  that  his  first  and  controlling 
object  was,  not  to  inculcate  intricate  lessons  of  philosophy  and 
morals,  as  many  of  his  biographers  assume,  but  to  draw  full 
houses  and  to  please  good-natured  audiences.  Indeed,  could 
Shakespeare  be  roused  from  his  "  paved  bed  "  for  a  few  minutes, 
to  listen  to  the  profound  theories  ascribed  to  him  by  the  German 
commentators  upon  such  plays  as  "  The  Merchant  of  Venice," 
"  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona/'  and  "  The  Comedy  of  Errors,"  his 
astonished  shade,  would,  probably,  be  glad  to  shrink  back  into 
its  marble  prison,  in  order  to  escape  the  fine  but  confusing 
theories  about  him  with  which  the  world  has  been  teased  during 
the  last  fifty  years. 

In  fact,  when  I  first  began  the  research  necessary  to  this 
inquiry,  I  was  staggered  by  the  amount  of  compound  insight 
assumed  by  the  German  critics  as  to  Shakespeare's  drift  and  in- 
culcations. So  busily  had  these  literary  beavers  worked  at  the 
text  of  the  immortal  bard,  that  they  usually  allotted  to  him  the 
credit  of  six  or  seven  different  profundities  of  purpose  in  the 
story  of  one  play,  or  even  in  the  development  of  a  single 
character.  This  complicated  cleverness  not  only  amazed  but  for 
a  time  discouraged  me,  and  I  almost  sank  under  a  sense  of 
hopeless  incapacity  at  being  able  to  understand  one-fifth  of  what 
they  said.  Finally,  however,  I  determined  to  go  on,  relying  for 
my  success  upon  the  resolution  with  which  I  had  set  out — not  to 
make  this  inquiry  an  argument  for  one  point  or  another,  either  of 
religion,  democracy,  or  law.  On  the  contrary,  to  keep  it  as  far 
as  I  could,  rigidly  to  its  true  character  of  an  examination,  in 
which  everything  bearing  upon  the  inquiry,  whether  in  favour  of 
Bacon  or  of  Shakespeare,  should  be  heard.  I  believe  I  have  been 
faithful  to  this  purpose  ;  but  if  the  facts,  thus  far,  have  all  borne 
oneway,  and,  if  my  intelligence  has  been  obliged  to  exercise 
the  common  privilege  of  judgment,  the  cumulation  of  authority 
must  not  be  charged  to  any  favouritism  on  my  part. 

Now,  as  to  the  German  exploitation  of  the  compound  philoso- 
phical inculcations  of  our  poet,  let  us  look  at  the  simple  sketch 
of  the  three  branches  of  "  The  Merchant  of  Venice"  (which,  be 
it  remembered,  Shakespeare  took  bodily  from  other  minds),  and 
see  what  some  of  these  Germans  impute  to  his  mind  in  simply 
reproducing  the  story  in  an  English  form. 


1 16  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

First,  let  us  read  the  following  account  of  the  original 
sources  of  Shakespeare's  play,  as  it  appears  in  Howe's  edition  of 
our  poet's  dramatic  works : — 

"  The  plot  of  '  The  Merchant  of  Venice '  comprises  the  chief  circumstance 
of  the  bond,  the  auxiliary  incident  of  the  caskets,  and  the  sub-story  of 
Lorenzo  and  Jessica.  The  story  of  the  bond  is  of  oriental  origin ;  it  first 
appeared  in  Europe,  in  a  work  by  Giovanni,  a  Florentine  novelist,  from  which 
our  dramatist,  though  indirectly,  perhaps,  has  taken  his  materials. 

"  Giannetto  obtains  permission  from  his  godfather,  Ansaldo,  to  travel  to 
Alexandria,  but  changes  his  mind,  in'  the  hopes  of  gaining  a  lady  of  great 
wealth  and  beauty  at  Belmont,  whose  hand  is  proffered  to  him  who  can  obtain 
a  premature  enjoyment  of  the  connubial  rites.  Overpowered  with  sleep, 
occasioned  by  a  narcotic  given  him  in  his  wine,  he  fails  in  his  enterprise,  and 
his  vessel  and  cargo,  which  he  had  wagered  on  his  success,  are  forfeited. 
Another  ship  is  equipped,  which  he  loses  in  a  second  attempt ;  and  a  third  is 
made  at  the  expense  of  his  godfather,  who  borrows  ten  thousand  ducats  from 
a  Jew,  on  condition  that  if  they  are  not  returned  by  a  stipulated  day,  the 
lender  may  cut  a  pound  of  flesh  from  any  part  of  the  debtor's  body.  Gian- 
netto obtains  the  lady ;  but  lost  in  delight  with  his  bride,  forgets  Ansaldo's 
bond  till  the  very  day  it  becomes  due.  He  hastens  to  Venice,  but  the  time 
is  past,  and  the  usurer  refuses  ten  times  the  value  of  his  bond.  Gian- 
netto's lady  arrives  at  this  crisis,  and  causes  it  to  be  announced  that  she 
can  resolve  difficult  questions  in  law.  Consulted  in  the  case  of  Ansaldo,  she 
decides  that  the  Jew  must  have  his  pound  of  flesh ;  but  that  he  shall  lose  his 
head  if  he  cuts  more  or  less,  or  draws  one  drop  of  blood.  The  Jew  relinquishes 
his  demand,  and  Ansaldo  is  released.  The  bride  will  not  receive  money  as  a 
recompense,  but  desires  Giannetto's  wedding-ring,  which  he  gives  her. 
The  lady  arrives  at  home  before  her  husband,  and  immediately  asks  for  her 
ring,  which  he  being  unable  to  produce,  she  upbraids  him  with  having  given 
it  to  some  mistress.  At  length,  Giannetto's  sorrow  affects  his  wife,  and 
she  explains  the  particulars  of  her  journey  and  disguise.  All  this  is  closely 
followed  by  Shakespeare ;  but  the  improbability  of  a  lady's  possessing  so  much 
legal  acumen  is  skilfully  removed  by  making  her  consult  an  eminent  lawyer, 
and  act  under  his  advice. 

"  The  choosing  of  the  caskets  is  borrowed  from  the  English  Gesta  Roma- 
norum,  a  collection  of  tales  much  esteemed  by  our  ancestors.  Three  vessels 
were  placed  before  the  king  of  Apulia's  daughter  for  her  choice.  The  first 
was  of  pure  gold,  and  filled  with  dead  men's  bones ;  on  it  was  this  inscrip- 
tion :  Who  chooses  me  shall  find  what  he  deserves.  The  second  was  of  silver, 
and  thus  inscribed :  Who  chooses  me  shall  find  what  nature  covets.  It  was 
filled  with  earth.  The  third  vessel  was  of  lead,  but  filled  with  precious 
stones.  It  had  this  inscription :  Who  chooses  me  shall  find  what  God  has 
placed.  The  princess,  after  praying  for  assistance,  chooses  the  leaden  vessel. 
The  emperor  applauds  her  wisdom,  and  she  is  united  to  his  son." 

Here  are  the  two  branches  of  the  main  story  almost  completely; 


"  The  Merchant  of  Venice:'  1 1 7 

so  whatever  that  story  inculcates,  must  be  credited  to  Giovanni, 
the   Florentine  originator,  and  not  to   Shakespeare.     But  hear 
what   the   German   commentators  say : — Karl  Elze,  who  is  a 
doctor  of  philosophy,  remarks,  "  that  it  might  be  supposed  critics 
would   long  since   have  come   to  a  unanimous   and   generally 
recognized  aesthetic  estimate  of  such  a  much-read  play  as  '  The 
Merchant  of  Venice/  standing,  as  it  does,  on  the  repertoire  of 
almost  every  stage ;  however,  the  conceptions  of  the  fundamental 
idea,  the  opinions  concerning  the  composition  and  the  criticism 
of  the  characters,  differ  here  more  widely  than  in  the  case  of 
most  of  the  other  works  of  our  poet/'     Gervinius  finds  "  a  proof 
of  the  wealth  and  many-sidedness  of  Shakespeare's  works  to  lie 
in  the  variety  of  the  points  of  view  from  which  they  may  be 
regarded,  as  it  is  not  without  a  certain  degree  and  appearance  of 
correctness  that  several  opinions  on  one  and  the  same  play  may 
be  formed."     According  to  Horn,  <(  The  Merchant  of  Venice  " 
is  based  upon  a  truly  grand,  profound,  extremely  delightful,  nay, 
an  almost  blessed  idea,  upon  a  purely  Christian,  conciliatory  love, 
and  upon  meditating  mercy  as  opposed  to  the  law,  and  to  what 
is  called  right."     Surely,  this  must  be  very  fine,  if  one  could 
only  understand  it.     Ulrici,  in  the  very  best  of  Latin,  finds  the 
ideal  of  unity  in  the  saying, "  Summumjus,  summa  injuria  ;  "  that 
is  to  say,  the  rigour  of  the  law  is  the  very  rigour  of  oppression, 
and  Rotscher  so  modifies  this  view,  that  he  considers  the  inner- 
most  spirit  of  the  play  evidently  to  be  "  the  dialectics  of  abstract 
right.'"     He  oracularly  adds,  "  By  the  expression  of  abstract 
right,  we  mean  that  development  by  which  abstract  right  by 
itself,  that  is,  by  its  own  nature,  discovers  its  own  worthlessness, 
consequently  destroys  itself  where  it  seeks  to  govern  human  life, 
and  to  assert  itself  as  an  absolute  power/'     This  logic  is   so 
superbly  intricate  that  it  seems  out  of  place  anywhere  but  in  the 
mouth  of  the  hair-splitting  first  grave-digger  in  Hamlet.     Elze 
thinks,  that  "  the  centre  of  gravity  of  the  play  lies  in  Portia's 
address  to  Mercy/' 1  and  Gervinius  comes  again,  with  the  idea 
that,  ' '  in  '  The  Merchant  of  Venice/  the  poet  wished  to  delineate 
man's   relation   to   property."     He  profoundly  adds   that  "to 
prove  a  man's  relation  to  property,  to  money,  is  to  weigh  his 
inner  value  by  a  most  subtle  balance,  and  to  separate  that  which 

1  "  Essays  on  Shakespeare,"  by  Karl  Elze,  pp.  67,  68,  69.    London,  Mac- 
millan  and  Co.,  1874. 
9 


1 1 8  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

clings  to  unessential  and  external  things  from  that  which,  in  its 
inner  nature,  places  itself  in  relation  to  a  higher  destiny ." 
Surely  Christy's  Minstrels  never  did  anything  better  than  this  ! 
Hebler,  objecting  to  the  idea  of  Gervinius,  that  "  money,  the  god 
of  the  world,  is  the  symbol  of  appearance  and  of  everything  ex- 
ternal," admits,  nevertheless,  that  the  fundamental  idea  of  the 
piece  "  lies  in  the  struggle  against  appearance  and  of  everything 
external,"  but  he  confesses  that  it  is  "  by  no  means  only  repre- 
sented symbolically  by  the  caskets,  but  in  a  very  plastic  and 
classical  manner."  "  According  to  this  conception,"  says  another, 
"  Bassanio's  speech,  when  selecting  the  casket,  contains  the  key 
to  the  poem,  and  it  cannot  be  denied  that  it  possesses  as  great 
a  claim  to  this  distinction  as  Portia's  apotheosis  to  Mercy." 
Kreysig,  lastly,  "  recognizes  the  impossibility  of  comprising  the 
numerous  diverse  and  to  some  extent  opposite  elements  of  the 
play  under  one  fundamental  idea,"  and  concludes  by  saying,  for  the 
benefit  of  whom  it  may  concern,  "  that  strong  feeling,  together 
with  clear  and  sure  reasoning,  balance  each  other  in  the  character 
pervading  the  whole."  All  of  which  profound  and  eloquent 
encomiums  being  due  equally  to  Giovanni  and  to  Shakespeare  so 
far  as  the  story  is  concerned,  and  really  more  to  the  former  than 
to  the  latter,  bring  me  to  the  same  state  of  complication  which 
disturbed  the  mind  of  the  celebrated  negro  philosopher  when 
endeavouring  to  solve  the  obvious  difficulties  of  the  problem  of  a 
horse  dying  on  a  man's  hands. 

It  seems  to  me  that  if  Shakespeare  had  any  leading  motive 
in  this  play,  outside  of  making  a  success  in  the  way  of  money, 
it  was  to  cater  to  the  common  hatred  of  the  Jews,  which  burned 
so  fiercely  in  the  Elizabethan  age,  and  reached  its  intensest  fury 
among  the  devotees  of  the  Romish  faith.  And  here  let  us  not 
overlook  the  fact  that,  according  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Catholic 
Church,  "  it  was  a  grievous  sin  to  take  interest  on  money  :  nay, 
usury  was  a  crime  amenable  to  the  ecclesiastical  tribunals,  and 
Pope  Clement  V.  declared  it  heresy  to  vindicate  it.  The 
subsequent  Popes,  Pius  V.  and  Sextus  V.  (1585 — 1590),  even 
Benedict  XIV.,  as  late  as  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
confirmed  this  doctrine.  The  outcast  Jew  alone  was  permitted 
by  the  law  to  take  interest.  And  the  Protestant  Reformers,  on 
this  point,  adopted  the  doctrine  of  the  Catholic  Church."  2  In 

2  Karl  Elze's  Essay  on  Shakespeare,  p.  86. 


"  The  Merchant  of  Venice:'  u9 

the  Venetian  period  of  which  Shakespeare  writes,  "the  Jews 
were  cooped  up  in  their  ghettos,  and  marked  by  a  conspicuous 
dress  like  hangmen  and  prostitutes.  All  branches  of  business 
were  prohibited  to  them,  except  those  of  barter  and  dealings  in 
money,  and  this  sole  source  of  acquiring  the  means  of  existence 
was  branded  by  the  name  of  usury.''  Here  we  have  the  key  to 
the  loathing  and  contumely  put  upon  Shylock  by  Antonio,  who, 
in  a  spirit  even  meaner  than  any  exhibited  by  the  Hebrew,  was 
guilty  of  the  gross  blackguardism  of  kicking  him  and  of  spitting 
upon  his  beard ;  nay,  was  shameless  enough  to  boast  to  his  face 
that  he  might  again,  through  mere  caprice  and  wantonness, 
repeat  that  outrageous  conduct.  No  wonder  that  Shylock  wished 
to  "  catch  him  on  the  hip."  In  further  proof  that  Shakespeare 
meant  to  cater  to  the  common  prejudice  of  his  audiences  against 
the  Jews,  and  doubtless  felt  it,  he  permitted  Shylock  to  be 
represented  at  his  own  theatre,  with  red  hair  and  a  long  false 
nose,  in  order  that  the  audience  might  not  sympathize  with  his 
tremendous  sufferings,  when,  after  losing  his  daughter  and  his 
fortune,  he  was  ruthlessly  required  even  to  abjure  his  faith. 

This  portraiture  of  Shylock  continued  down  to  the  latter  end 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  reached  its  climax  when  Lord 
Lansdowne,  in  a  version  of  the  play  called  "The  Jew  of 
Venice/'  introduced  a  scene  of  buffoonery  for  Shylock,  at  the 
feast  given  by  Bassanio.  In  this  piece  Shylock  is  represented  as 
the  butt  of  the  company,  and  also  as  the  jester  of  the  table  for 
the  amusement  of  the  Christian  guests.  ' '  This  misconception 
of  the  character  of  Shylock/'  says  the  writer  to  the  introduction 
of  French's  edition  of  the  play,  "  prevailed  until  Macklin  restored 
the  original  text  to  the  stage.  This  actor's  admirable  performance 
of  the  character,  at  once  so  new  and  striking,  drew  from  Pope 
the  well-known  eulogium, — 

«  This  is  the  Jew 
That  Shakespeare  drew.' " 

Nevertheless,  Shakespeare  permitted  Shylock  to  be  delineated 
as  a  buffoon  at  his  own  theatre  because,  undoubtedly,  that  form 
of  caricature  both  pleased  and  paid.  This  gives  us  a  singular 
insight  into  the  worldliness  and  facility  of  Shakespeare's  money- 
making  nature  ;  for  it  is  impossible  to  read  his  delineation  of  this 
tremendous  character,  and  dwell  upon  the  mighty  investiture  of 


I2O  Shakespeare )  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

thought,  force,  and  passion  with  which  he  consecrated  it  to  tragic 
elevation,  without  conceiving  the  pain  it  must  have  caused  him 
to  yield  the  great  portraiture  to  comic  hands — to  see  his  ideal  of 
Judaism,  his  well-studied  representative  of  an  inflexible  race, 
which  no  wrongs  nor  contumelies  could  subvert,  speaking  in  the 
mirth-provoking  tones  of  a  Liston  or  a  Stuart  Robson. 

It  is  clear  to  me  that  the  consideration  for  the  success  of  the 
piece  which  induced  Shakespeare,  as  a  manager,  to  permit 
Shylock  to  be  burlesqued  and  perverted  to  the  hands  of  a  low 
comedian,  could  not  have  operated  upon  the  mind  of  such  a  man 
as  Bacon.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  purely  the  consideration  of  a 
playwright,  and  not  the  intellectual  surrender  of  one  who  was 
either  wholly  a  poet  or  wholly  a  philosopher.  Shakespeare  loved 
money  more,  apparently,  than  he  loved  art ;  and,  in  despite  of 
the  fine-spun  theories  of  his  biographers  and  the  bubbles  of  the 
aesthetic  Germans,  I  cannot  resist  the  conviction  that  he  wrote, 
and  especially  in  this  play  of  "  The  Merchant  of  Venice,"  for 
pounds  instead  of  principles,  and  never  once  bothered  his  mind 
about  inculcating  moral  lessons  to  mankind.  I  believe,  more- 
over, that  he  had  but  a  limited  ambition  for  the  glory  of  a  poet. 
Though  his  brain,  when  at  work,  would  flame  with  the  genius  of 
a  demi-god,  his  prevailing  elements  were  earthy,  and  the  coarser 
portion  of  his  nature  steered  his  work.  The  constant  thirst  which 
he  had  for  wealth  is  exhibited  by  his  early  acquisition  of  houses 
and  lands  in  London  and  in  Stratford ;  and  the  firmness  of  his 
grip  on  his  accumulations  is  manifested  by  the  paltry  suits  he 
brought  to  recover  debt — one  being  for  thirty-five  shillings  and 
tenpence  —  after  he  had  come  to  the  enjoyment  of  an  income 
which  would  now  be  equal  to  twenty  thousand  dollars  a  year. 
Indeed,  if  he  had  been  governed  solely  by  the  elevation  of  a  poet, 
he  could  not  have  submitted  his  masterly  and  vigorous  ideal  of 
the  revengeful  Jew  to  the  degrading  role  of  a  jack-pudding  ; 
while,  if  it  ever  entered  into  his  head  to  inculcate  moral  lessons  by 
his  plays,  he  would  not  have  forgiven  Proteus  and  Angelo,  or  have 
written  that  deliberate  essay  in  favour  of  free  love  known  as 
"  Troilus  and  Cressida."  In  fact,  Shakespeare  had  no  morals, 
so  to  speak ;  and  what  he  exhibits  in  that  way  were  just  as  meagre 
as  any  writer  would  be  allowed  to  have,  who  was  obliged  to  submit 
his  views  to  the  instinctive  goodness  of  the  big-hearted  multitude. 

Witness  this  very  play.   First,  we  have  the  blackguard  Antonio 


"  The  Merchant  of  Venice:'  1 2 1 

"  footing "  an  unoffending  man  and  spitting  into  his  beard  because 
he  differed  with  him  in  religious  belief,  or  because  he  followed  a 
way  of  business  (within  the  protection  of  the  law)  which  he  did 
not  like.  And  this  ruffian  is  the  idol  of  our  poet's  admiration. 
Next  comes  Bassanio,  an  unprincipled,  penniless  adventurer,  a 
mere  tavern  spendthrift  and  carouser,  who  borrows  money  that 
he  may  cheat  a  wealthy  maiden  of  her  dower.  And  this  fine  figure 
is  Shakespeare's  second  pet !  Then  follow  those  poodles  and 
parasites,  Gratiano,  Salarino,  Salerio,  Salanio,  and  Lorenzo,  the 
first  willing  to  put  up  with  Portia's  waiting-maid,  Nerissa,  be- 
cause there  is  money  ''  all  round"  in  Portia's  neighbourhood,  and 
the  latter  inducing  a  little  girl  to  rob  her  father's  house,  which 
contemptible  crime  meets  with  the  unlimited  approval  and  active 
aid  of  the  whole  gang,  from  Antonio  down.  If  these  are  Shake- 
speare's preferred  representatives  of  Christian  morals,  they  appear 
in  poor  contrast  to  Shylock  and  Tubal,  as  revengeful  as  he  makes 
the  first  to  be.  The  moral  of  the  caskets  is  neither  better  nor  a 
whit  more  wise ;  for  it  simply  advocates  the  system  of  lottery 
against  that  of  judgment.  Moreover,  it  cannot  be  believed 
that,  among  the  swarm  of  suitors  who,  first  and  last,  had  been 
at  Portia's  residence,  not  one  had  hit  upon  the  leaden  casket 
until  Bassanio  took  his  turn.3  Neither  can  any  one  credit,  for 

3  PEINCE  or  MOROCCO.     Why,  that's  the  lady :  all  the  world  desires  her: 
From  the  four  corners  of  the  earth  they  come, 
To  kiss  this  shrine,  this  mortal  breathing  saint. 
The  Hyrcanian  deserts,  and  the  vasty  wilds 
Of  wild  Arabia,  are  as  through-fares  now, 
For  princes  to  come  view  fair  Portia : 
The  wat'ry  kingdom,  whose  ambitious  head 
Spits  in  the  face  of  heaven,  is  no  bar 
To  stop  the  foreign  spirits ;  but  they  come, 
As  o'er  a  brook,  to  see  fair  Portia. 

Act  II.  Scene  7. 

POETIA  (to  BASSANIO,  as  he  is  about  choosing  from  the  caskets). 
Before  you  venture  for  me.     I  could  teach  you, 
How  to  choose  right,  but  then  I  am  forsworn ; 
So  will  I  never  be ;  so  may  you  miss  me : 
But  if  you  do,  you'll  make  me  wish  a  sin, 
That  I  had  been  forsworn.     Beshrew  your  eyes, 
They  have  o'erlook'd  me,  and  divided  me ; 
One  half  of  me  is  yours,  the  other  half  yours, — 
Mine  own,  I  would  say ;  but  if  mine,  then  yours, 


122  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

an  instant,  the  pretence  that  so  keen  a  girl  as  Portia  would  not 
have  jockeyed  her  foolish  father's  will  by  giving  her  favourite, 
Bassanio,  a  wink.  Every  one,  therefore,  must  agree  that,  the 
problem  of  the  caskets  was  worked  out  in  its  very  weakest  way 
by  deciding  against  the  Princes  of  Morocco  and  Arragon,  who 
had  something  to  risk,  in  favour  of  a  beggarly  sharper  who  had 
nothing  to  lose ;  and  who  was  accessory,  both  before  and  after 
the  fact,  to  the  robbery  of  the  Jew's  house. 

This  seems  to  be  harsh  language,  and  it  doubtless  jars  with  the 
settled  notions  of  many  a  worshipper  of  Shakespeare's  heroes ; 
but  these  are  the  portraits  of  our  poet's  very  words.  The 
Antonio  party,  with  the  exception  possibly  of  Antonio  himself, 
are  profligates  and  spendthrifts,  with,  as  is  evident  from  Bassanio's 
pecuniary  straits,  scarcely  a  dollar  among  them.  As  for  Bassanio, 
he  has  not  only  "  disabled  his  estate/'  by  "  showing  a  more 
swelling  port  than  his  faint  means  would  grant  continuance/' 
but  he  is  hopelessly  in  debt  on  all  sides,  and  most  largely  to 
Antonio,  for  loans  obtained  to  float  his  pleasures.  Nevertheless, 
he  goes  to  him  again,  and,  like  all  habitual  borrowers,  tempts 
him  with  the  hope  of  getting  his  money  back,  if  he  will  only 
help  him  with  a  little  more.  His  new  aim  on  this  occasion  is  a 
wealthy  lady  who  has  made  eyes  at  him,4  but  whom  he  does  not 

And  so  all  yours  :  0 !  these  naughty  times 
Put  bars  between  the  owners  arid  their  rights ; 
And  so,  though  yours,  not  yours. 

Act  TIL  Scene  2. 

Bassanio  then  chooses  the  leaden  casket  and  wins  the  lady,  whereupon, 
frankly  resigning,  she  thus  describes  herself: — 

But  the  full  sum  of  me 

Is  sum  of  something  ;  which,  to  term  in  gross, 
Is  an  unlesson'd  girl,  unschool'd,  unpractised  : 
Happy  in  this,  she  is  not  yet  so  old 
But  she  may  learn ;  and  happier  than  this, 
She  is  not  bred  so  dull  but  she  can  learn  ; 
Happiest  of  all,  is,  that  her  gentle  spirit 
Commits  itself  to  yours  to  be  directed, 
As  from  her  lord,  her  governor,  her  king. 

4  BASSANIO.  In  Belmont  is  a  lady  richly  left, 

And  she  is  fair,  and  fairer  than  that  word, 

Of  wondrous  virtues.     Sometimes,  from  her  eyes 

I  did  receive  fair  speechless  messages. 


"  The  Merchant  of  Venice"  1 23 

pretend  to  love— his  sole  object  being  "  to  get  clear  of  all  the 
debts  he  owes"  by  capturing  her  fortune;— and,  especially,  to 
square  accounts  with  Antonio.  These  are  the  coarse  temptations 
which  operate  to  obtain  from  Antonio  the  loan  which  is  the  pivot 
of  the  piece. 

We  next  have  an  exhibition  of  £he  personal  morals  of  An- 
tonio, who,  though  he  has  spit  upon  Shylock  for  taking  usury, 
encourages  his  repetition  of  that  practice  by  offering  to  pay  him 
usury  himself. 

ANTONIO.  Shylock,  albeit  I  neither  lend  nor  borrow, 
By  taking  nor  by  giving  of  excess, 
Yet,  to  supply  the  ripe  wants  of  my  friend, 
I'll  break  a  custom. 

So  much  for  the  morals  of  Antonio  and  Bassanio.  Let  us  now 
take  the  virtuous  measure  of  Lorenzo,  Salerio,  Gratiano,  and 
Salarino.  We  find  ample  opportunity  for  this  process  in  Scene  6 
of  Act  II.,  where  the  two  latter  are  seen  lurking  about  Shylock's 
house  at  night,  in  order  to  assist  Lorenzo  in  his  plot  to  abduct 
Jessica,  the  Jew's  daughter ;  and,  as  I  said  before,  to  rob  Shy- 
lock's  vaults.  In  connexion  with  this  view  let  it  be  borne  in 
mind  that  Bassanio  has  aided  them  in  the  disgraceful  scheme  by 
decoying  Shylock  to  his  feast ;  ay,  to  the  very  feast  where  these 
shameless  rogues  are  to  sit  and  eat  with  him  after  they  have 
rifled  him  of  his  jewels  and  his  child. 

Act  II.  Scene  6. — Before  SliylocKs  House. 
Enter  GEATIANO  and  SALAEINO,  masqued. 
GEA.        This  is  the  pent-house,  under  which  Lorenzo 
Desired  us  to  make  stand. 


Nor  is  the  wide  world  ignorant  of  her  worth, 
Eor  the  four  winds  blow  in  from  every  coast 
Renowned  suitors ;  and  her  sunny  locks 
Hang  on  her  temples  like  a  golden  fleece ; 
Which  makes  her  seat  of  Belmont  Colchos'  strand, 
And  many  Jasons  come  in  quest  of  her. 
Oh,  my  Antonio !  had  I  but  the  means, 
To  hold  a  rival  place  with  one  of  them, 
I  have  a  mind  presages  me  such  thrift, 
That  I  should,  questionless,  be  fortunate. 

Act  I.  Scene  1. 


124  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

SALAE.     His  hour  is  almost  past. 

GEA.        And  it  is  marvel  he  outdwells  his  hour, 

For  lovers  ever  run  before  the  clock. 

Enter  LOEENZO.  , 

LOE.         Sweet  friends,  your  patience  for  my  long  abode : 

Not  I,  but  my  affairs  have  made  you  wait : 

"When  you  shall  plfcase  to  flay  the  thieves  for  wives, 

I'll  watch  as  long  as  you. 

Jessica  then  appears  at  a  window  disguised  in  boy's  clothes 
and  throws  a  casket  of  jewels  to  Lorenzo,  telling  him  to  wait 
until  she  gathers  up  some  more  of  her  father's  ducats,  when  she 
will  join  him  at  the  door.  When  her  flight  is  discovered,  the  Jew 
rightly  suspects  that  Bassanio,  who  had  decoyed  him  to  his  feast, 
is  a  party  to  the  abduction,  and  follows  him  to  the  strand,  where 
he  is  embarking  for  Padua,  on  his  trip  to  swindle  Portia.  He 
reaches  the  wharf  too  late,  however,  for  the  adventurer  has  sailed. 
Bassanio  next  appears  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Belmont,  and, 
penniless  as  he  is,  approaches  it  with  the  flourish  of  a  prince. 
He  sends  a  pursuivant  before  him  to  announce  his  coming, 
and  to  lay  at  Portia's  feet  "  gifts  of  rich  value"  out  of  Antonio's 
toughly-borrowed  money ;  but  he  fails  to  acquaint  Portia  with 
his  poverty  until  after  he  has  irrevocably  won  her  in  the  lottery. 
Here  are  a  precious  set  of  scamps,  not  one  of  whom  has  ever  done  a 
worthy  act  or  who  owns  an  honest  dollar,  to  contrast  with  the 
patient  and  lawful  thrift  which  has  made  Shylock  simply  the 
Rothschild  or  the  Drexel  of  his  day,  in  a  way  of  business  now 
practised  by  every  banking  institution  in  the  Christian  world. 
Finally,  that  there  may  be  no  mistake  about  the  morals 
and  motives  of  the  Antonio  party,  the  first  exclamation  which 
Gratiano  makes  to  one  of  the  gang  arriving  at  Belmont  from 
Venice  is,  while  apparently  throwing  up  his  hat, — 

"  We  are  the  Jasons,  we  have  won  the  fleece ! " 

Moreover,  the  first  exercise  of  liberty  by  Antonio,  on  being  res- 
cued from  his  penalty,  is  to  decline  to  pay  the  principal  of  the 
bond,  and  to  propose,  after  Shylock  has  been  crushed  by  the  loss 
of  his  only  child  and  the  confiscation  of  his  fortune,  the  inex- 
pressibly savage  punishment  of  the  abjuration  of  his  faith.  The 
boundaries  of  human  vengeance  had  already  been  reached  by  the 
abduction  of  his  daughter  and  the  judgment  of  the  court ;  but 


"  The  Merchant  of  Venice:' 

the  mild-spoken  Antonio  goes  beyond,  and  pants  to  kill  his 
Hebrew  soul.  Kightly  did  the  Jew  exclaim,  in  view  of  the 
specimens  which  Shakespeare  set  before  him, 

"  0  Father  Abraham,  what  these  Christians  are ! " 


126  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE"  (CONTINUED). 

LET  us  now  turn  to  the  main  features  of  the  drama — Shylock's 
bond — which  most  conspicuously  tests  Shakespeare's  law. 

The  action  of  this  part  of  the  story  begins  in  the  third  act, 
after  Bassanio  has  securely  landed  Portia  from  his  net,  and  Gra- 
tiano  has  won  the  second  prize  of  the  expedition,  in  the  possession 
of  Nerissa.  Lorenzo  has  been  equally  successful  with  the  Jew's 
daughter,  and  the  whole  party  are  rioting  at  Belmont  over  their 
good  fortune,  when  their  hilarity  is  suddenly  dampened  by  the 
arrival  of  a  letter  from  Antonio  with  the  news  that  all  his  ships 
have  been  wrecked  at  sea,  and  that,  being  unable  to  meet  his 
bond  to  Shylock,  he  will  have  to  undergo  its  penalty.  The 
messenger,  Salerio,  who  brings  these  tidings,  also  informs  the 
startled  company  that,  the  day  of  payment  being  past,  Shylock 
refuses  the  satisfaction  of  the  bond,  and  insists  upon  the  bloody 
forfeiture. 

SALEEIO.  Never  did  I  know 

A  creature,  that  did  not  bear  the  shape  of  man, 
So  keen  and  greedy  to  confound  a  man  : 
He  plies  the  duke  at  morning,  and  at  night ; 
And  doth  impeach  the  freedom  of  the  state, 
If  they  deny  him  justice ;  twenty  merchants, 
The  duke  himself,  and  the  magnificoes 
Of  greatest  port,  have  all  persuaded  with  him : 
But  none  can  drive  him  from  the  envious  plea 
Of  forfeiture,  of  justice,  and  his  hond. 

JESSICA.    When  I  was  with  him,  I  have  heard  him  swear, 
To  Tubal  and  to  Chus,  his  countrymen, 
That  he  would  rather  have  Antonio's  flesh, 
Than  twenty  times  the  value  of  the  sum 
That  he  did  owe  him ;  and  I  know,  my  lord, 
If  law,  authority,  and  power  deny  not, 
It  will  go  hard  with  poor  Antonio. 


"  The  Merchant  of  Venice:'  \  2  7 

It  is  at  once  agreed,  at  the  end  of  this  conference,  that 
Bassanio,  Gratiano,  and  Salerio,  shall  go  immediately  to  Venice, 
with  a  large  hag  of  Portia's  money,  to  meet  all  exigencies,  as  well 
as  to  pay  the  hond.  In  order  to  draw  this  money  from  the  lady's 
coffers,  Bassanio  here,  for  the  first  time,  confesses  to  her  that  he 
has  no  money  of  his  own.  At  this  parting  it  is  mutually  agreed 
by  the  two  newly-married  couples  that  all  nuptial  joys  shall  he 
postponed  between  them  until  Antonio  is  released.  Bassanio  with 
his  male  friends  having  started  upon  this  business,  Portia  hits 
upon  the  plan  of  following  them  with  Nerissa,  in  the  disguise  of 
a  lawyer  attended  by  his  clerk.  And,  in  order  to  actually  play  a 
lawyer's  part  in  the  extrication  of  Antonio,  she  sends  a  messenger 
to  a  learned  old  barrister  in  Padua,  named  Bellario,  who  is  her 
cousin,  requesting  him  to  send  lawyer's  robes,  and  give  such 
directions  in  the  way  of  legal  points  as  will  enable  her  to  defend 
Antonio  in  a  lawyer-like  manner  before  the  court.  Having  des- 
patched the  messenger,  she  then  informs  Lorenzo  and  Jessica, 
who  have  already  commenced  their  honeymoon,  that  she  intends 
to  leave  them  to  keep  house  a  few  days,  while  she  and  her  maid 
Nerissa  go  to  perform  a  solemn  task  until  her  husband's  return. 
And  here  again  Shakespeare  brings  in  the  inevitable  monas- 
tery : — 

POETIA.     Lorenzo,  I  commit  into  your  hands 

The  husbandry  and  manage  of  my  house, 
Until  my  lord's  return  ;  for  my  own  part, 
I  have  toward  heaven  hreath'd  a  secret  vow, 
To  live  in  prayer  and  contemplation, 
Only  attended  by  Nerissa  here, 
Until  her  husband  and  my  lord's  return  ; 
There  is  a  monastery  two  miles  off, 
And  there  we  will  abide. 

Any  other  place  of  abode  for  a  week  would  have  suited  the 
purposes  of  the  story  quite  as  well;  but  Shakespeare  must  have 
in  his  monastery,  whenever  there  is  an  opportunity  to  show  one 
off  to  advantage. 

All  of  this  last  scene  is  the  very  height  of  absurdity.  There 
might  have  been  some  sense  in  employing  Bellario  to  go  to 
Venice,  where  the  ladies  could  also  have  gone  in  disguise,  and 
have  had  all  the  fun  they  wanted  in  the  way  of  masking  and 
sideplay  while  the  old  doctor  was  trying  the  case.  But  for  these 
two  chits,  or,  as  Portia  describes  herself, — 


128  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

"  An  unlesson'd  girl,  unschool'd,  unpractised/' 

to  go  in  barrister's  garments,  and  with  a  handful  of  mere  legal 
notes  to  represent  the  gravity  and  learning  necessary  to  conduct 
a  capital  case,  before  a  court  of  the  highest  grade,  is  an  extremity 
of  nonsense  which  reaches  the  point  of  absolute  burlesque.  We 
get  at  the  full  ludicrousness  of  this  attempt  at  deception,  by  the 
following  parting  dialogue  between  Portia  and  Nerissa,  as  they 
set  out  for  Venice  on  this  lunatic  enterprise : — 

POE.       Come  on,  Nerissa ;  I  have  work  in  hand, 

That  you  yet  know  not  of :  we'll  see  our  husbands, 
Before  they  think  of  us. 

NEK.  Shall  they  see  us  ? 

POE.      They  shall,  Nerissa  ;  but  in  such  a  habit, 
That  they  shall  think  we  are  accomplished 
With  what  we  lack.     I'll  hold  thee  any  wager, 
When  we  are  both  accouter'd  like  young  men, 
I'll  prove  the  prettier  fellow  of  the  two, 
And  wear  my  dagger  with  the  braver  grace  ; 
And  speak,  between  the  change  of  men  and  boy, 
With  a  reed  voice ;  and  turn  two  mincing  steps 
Into  a  manly  stride ;  and  speak  of  frays, 
Like  a  fine  bragging  }'outh  ;  and  tell  quaint  lies, 
How  honourable  ladies  sought  my  love, 
Which  I  denying,  they  fell  sick  and  died ; 
1  could  not  do  withal :  then  I'll  repent, 
And  wish,  for  all  that,  that  I  had  not  kill'd  them. 
And  twenty  of  these  puny  lies  I'll  tell, 
That  men  should  swear,  I  have  discontinued  school 
Above  a  twelvemonth : — I  have  within  my  mind 
A  thousand  raw  tricks  of  these  bragging  Jacks, 
Which  I  will  practise. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  fourth  act,  all  the  parties,  except 
Lorenzo  and  Jessica,  meet  in  the  great  court  of  Venice,  where 
the  Duke,  surrounded  by  his  magnificoes,  is  solemnly  presiding. 
Antonio,  Bassanio,  Gratiano,  Salarino,  and  Salanio  are  present 
at  the  opening  of  the  proceedings,  and  presently,  upon  the  order 
of  the  Duke,  Shylock  enters  ;  whereupon  the  Duke, — 

DUKE.   Shylock,  the  world  thinks,  and  I  think  so,  too, 
That  thou  but  lead'st  this  fashion  of  thy  malice 
To  the  last  hour  of  act ;  and  then,  'tis  thought, 
Thou'lt  show  thy  mercy  and  remorse,  more  strange 
Than  is  thy  strange  apparent  cruelty ; 


"  The  Merchant  of  Venice:'  129 

And  where  thou  now  exact'st  the  penalty 
(Which  is  a  pound  of  this  poor  merchant's  flesh), 
Thou  wilt  not  only  lose  the  forfeiture, 
But,  touch'd  with  human  gentleness  and  love, 
Forgive  a  moiety  of  the  principal ; 
Glancing  an  eye  of  pity  on  his  losses, 
That  have  of  late  so  huddled  on  his  hack, 
Enough  to  press  a  royal  merchant  down. 

*  *  * 

We  all  expect  a  gentle  answer,  Jew. 
SHY.       I  have  possess'd  your  grace  of  what  I  purpose ; 
And  by  our  holy  Sabbath  have  I  sworn 
To  have  the  due  and  forfeit  of  my  bond : 
If  you  deny  it,  let  the  danger  light 
Upon  your  charter  and  your  city's  freedom. 

*  *  * 

So  can  I  give  no  reason,  nor  I  will  not, 

More  than  a  lodged  hate,  and  a  certain  loathing, 

I  bear  Antonio,  that  I  follow  thus 

A  losing  suit  against  him.    Are  you  answer 'd? 

BASS.     This  is  no  answer,  thou  unfeeling  man, 
To  excuse  the  current  of  thy  cruelty. 

SHY.      I  am  not  bound  to  please  thee  with  my  answer. 

BASS.     Do  all  men  kill  the  things  they  do  not  love  ? 

SHY.      Hates  any  man  the  thing  he  would  not  kill  ? 

This  latter  expression  of  Shylock's  shows  express  malice,  and, 
along-  with  'the  testimony  which  Jessica  gave  to  the  company  at 
Belmont,  would  have  justified  an  arrest  of  proceedings  by  the 
Duke,  with  an  order  to  take  Shylock  off  to  prison. 

BASS.     For  thy  three  thousand  ducats  here  is  six. 
SHY.      If  every  ducat  in  six  thousand  ducats, 

Were  in  six  parts,  and  every  part  a  ducat, 

I  would  not  draw  them ;  I  would  have  my  bond. 
DUKE.    How  shalt  thou  hope  for  mercy,  rendering  none  ? 
SHY.      What  judgment  shall  I  dread,  doing  no  wrong? 
DUKE.   Upon  my  power  I  may  dismiss  this  court, 

Unless  Bellario,  a  learned  doctor, 

Whom  I  have  sent  for  to  determine  this, 

Come  here  to-day. 

At  this  point  a  messenger  arrives  with  a  letter  from  Bellario, 
representing  that,  being  very  sick,  he  sends  in  his  stead  a  young 
and  learned  doctor  named  Balthasar.  This  introduces  Portia, 
who  comes  dressed  as  a  doctor  of  laws  : — 


130  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View, 

DUKE.    Give  me  your  hand.   Came  you  from  old  Bellario  ? 

FOR.      I  did,  my  lord. 

DUKE.  You  are  welcome ;  take  your  place. 

Are  you  acquainted  with  the  difference 
That  holds  this  present  question  in  the  court  ? 

POB.       I  am  informed  thoroughly  of  the  cause. 

Which  is  the  merchant  here,  and  which  the  Jew  ? 

DUKE.  Antonio  and  old  Shylock,  both  stand  forth  ! 

POE.      Is  your  name  Shylock  ? 

SHY.  Shylock  is  my  name. 

POB.      Of  a  strange  nature  is  the  suit  you  follow ; 
Yet  in  such  a  rule,  that  the  Venetian  law 
Cannot  impugn  you,  as  you  do  proceed. — 
You  stand  within  his  danger,  do  you  not  ? 

[To  ANTONIO. 

ANT.      Ay,  so  he  says. 

POB.  Do  you  confess  the  bond  ? 

ANT.      I  do. 

POE.  Then  must  the  Jew  be  merciful. 

SHY.      On  what  compulsion  must  I  ?     Tell  me  that. 

POE.      Tl^e  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strain'd : 

It  droppeth,  as  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven, 
Upon  the  place  beneath  :  it  is  twice  bless'd ; 
It  blesseth  him  that  gives,  and  him  that  takes : 
'Tis  mightiest  in  the  mightiest ;  it  becomes 
The  throned  monarch  better  than  his  crown  ; 
His  sceptre  shows  the  force  of  temporal  power, 
The  attribute  to  awe  and  majesty, 
Wherein  doth  sit  the  dread  and  fear  of  kings  : 
But  mercy  is  above  this  scepter'd  sway, 
It  is  enthroned  in  the  heart  of  kings. 
It  is  an  attribute  to  God  Himself; 
And  earthly  power  doth  then  show  likest  God's 
When  mercy  seasons  justice.     Therefore,  Jew, 
Though  justice  be  thy  plea,  consider  this — 
That  in  the  course  of  justice,  none  of  us 
Should  see  salvation :  we  do  pray  for  mercy ; 
And  that  same  prayer  doth  teach  us  all  to  render 
The  deeds  of  mercy.     I  have  spoke  thus  much, 
To  mitigate  the  justice  of  thy  plea ; 
Which  if  thou  follow,  this  strict  court  of  Venice 
Must  needs  give  sentence  'gainst  the  merchant  there. 

SHY.      My  deeds  upon  my  head !     I  crave  the  law, 
The  penalty  and  forfeit  of  my  bond. 

POE.       Is  he  not  able  to  discharge  the  money  ? 

BASS.     Yes,  here  I  tender  it  for  him  in  the  court ; 
Yea,  thrice  the  sum ;  if  that  will  not  suffice, 


"  The  Merchant  of  Venice. "  131 

I  will  be  bound  to  pay  it  ten  times  o'er, 

On  forfeit  of  my  hands,  my  head,  my  heart : 

If  this  will  not  suffice,  it  must  appear 

That  malice  bears  down  truth.    And  I  beseech  you 

[To  the  Duke. 

Wrest  once  the  law  to  your  authority : 
To  do  a  great  right  do  a  little  wrong ; 
And  curb  this  cruel  devil  of  his  will. 

•  Portia,  nevertheless,  admits  that  the  law  must  take  its  course, 
but  perceiving  the  Jew  had  made  himself  ready  with  his  knife, 
she  suddenly  interferes  : — 

POB.      Tarry  a  little ;  there  is  something  else. 

This  bond  doth  give  thee  here  no  jot  of  blood; 

The  words  expressly  are  a  pound  of  flesh ; 

Take,  then,  thy  bond,  take  thou  thy  pound  of  flesh  ; 

But  in  the  cutting  it,  if  thou  dost  shed 

One  drop  of  Christian  blood,  thy  lands  and  goods 

Are,  by  the  laws  of  Venice,  confiscate 

Unto  the  state  of  Venice. 

Shylock  is  then  desirous  of  taking  thrice  the  money ;  but, 
Portia  objecting,  he  is  willing  to  accept  the  principal.  This 
being  objected  to  also,  he  curses  the  debtor  and  attempts  to 
leave  the  court.  In  this  movement,  likewise,  he  is  frustrated  by 
the  heroine : — 

POE.  Tarry,  Jew : 

The  law  hath  yet  another  hold  on  you. 
It  is  enacted  in  the  laws  of  Venice, 
If  it  be  proved  against  an  alien, 
That  by  direct  or  indirect  attempts, 
He  seek  the  life  of  any  citizen, 
The  party  'gainst  the  which  he  doth  contrive, 
Shall  seize  one  half  his  goods ;  the  other  half 
Comes  to  the  privy  coffer  of  the  state ; 
And  the  offender's  life  lies  in  the  mercy 
Of  the  duke  only,  'gainst  all  other  voice. 
In  which  predicament,  I  say  thou  stand'st : 
For  it  appears  by  manifest  proceeding, 
That,  indirectly,  and  directly,  too, 
Thou  hast  contriv'd  against  the  very  life 
Of  the  defendant;  and  thou  hast  incurr'd 
The  danger  formerly  by  me  rehearsed. 
Down,  therefore,  and  beg  mercy  of  the  duke ! 


132  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

DUKE.   That  thou  shalt  see  the  difference  of  our  spirit, 
I  pardon  thee  thy  life  before  thou  ask  it : 
For  half  thy  wealth,  it  is  Antonio's ; 
The  other  half  comes  to  the  general  state, 
Which  humbleness  may  drive  unto  a  fine. 

Antonio,  who  has  suddenly  recovered  his  spirits  at  this  turn 
of  things,  hereupon  thriftily  suggests  that  the  fine  of  the  Jew's 
remaining  half  be  turned  over  to  him  until  Shy  lock's  death,  in 
trust,  for  Lorenzo  and  Jessica,  thus  cleverly  making  himself  the 
possessor  of  three-fourths.  This  modest  request  shows  him  to 
be  quite  as  keen  of  scent  for  money  as  the  Jew ;  but  the 
remainder  of  the  penalty  which  he  proposes  exhibits  him  as 
infinitely  more  revengeful  and  malignant : — 

ANT.      So  please  my  lord  the  duke,  and  all  the  court, 

To  quit  the  fine  for  one-half  of  his  goods, 

I  am  content,  so  he  will  let  me  have 

The  other  half  in  use,  to  render  it, 

Upon  his  death,  unto  the  gentleman 

That  lately  stole  his  daughter : 

Two  things  provided  more, — That,  for  this  favour, 

He  presently  become  a  Christian  ; 

The  other,  that  he  do  record  a  gift, 

Here  in  the  court,  of  all  he  dies  possess'd, 

Unto  his  son  Lorenzo,  and  his  daughter. 
DTJZE.  He  shall  do  this  ;  or  else  I  do  recant 

The  pardon,  that  I  late  pronounced  here. 
POR.      Art  thou  contented,  Jew,  what  dost  thou  say  ? 
SHY.      I  am  content. 

POE.  Clerk,  draw  a  deed  of  gift. 

SHY.      I  pray  you  give  me  leave  to  go  from  hence : 

I  am  not  well ;  send  the  deed  after  me, 

And  I  will  sign  it. 

[Exit  Shylock. 

This  is  the  last  of  Shylock,  for,  utterly  broken  down  by  his 
misfortunes,  he  disappears  to  die.  But  the  terrible  addition  to 
his  sentence,  which  Antonio  devilishly  suggests  and  which  the 
Duke  adopts,  has  been  rightly  denounced  as  going  beyond  all 
reasonable  ideas  of  human  punishment.  Looking  upon  Shylock 
as  one  "  with  whose  nature  religion  is  an  essential  element,  and 
whose  Mosaism  flows  from  his  very  heart/'  this  portion  of  the 
sentence  put  upon  him  by  Antonio,  is,  to  use  the  words  of  Elze, 
"  no  longer  poetic  justice  or  tragical  retribution,  but  mental  and 


"  The  Merchant  of  Venice:'  133 

moral  annihilation,  the  inevitable  consequences  of  which  must 
lead  to  physical  death."  Surely  no  man  who  had  an  enlightened 
belief  in  his  own  religion  could  have  put  such  a  penalty  as  this 
upon  another. 

Now,  to  take  it  altogether,  here  is  a  fine  court,  and  these  are 
fine  proceedings.  Can  any  one  believe,  for  a  moment,  that 
Lord  Bacon,  who  was  a  statesman  and  a  lawyer,  or  that  any  other 
man  who  was  a  lawyer,  at  all,  could  have  built  a  story  on  such  a 
jumble  of  legal  absurdities  and  impossibilities  as  are  here  offered 
for  our  entertainment  ?  The  supposition  that  a  cultivated  State 
like  Venice,  in  the  advanced  state  of  progress  represented  by  the 
period  of  this  play,  or  that  any  organized  State  one  degree 
removed  above  barbarism,  would  permit  a  citizen  to  pledge 
away  his  life,  as  an  alternative  penalty  to  a  money  contract,  with 
no  equity  of  redemption,  is  a  fiction  which  no  lawyer  would  tolerate 
for  an  instant.  A  lawyer  could  not  invent  it,  and  would  not 
receive  it  second-hand  for  constructive  purposes,  because  he  would 
be  at  war,  at  every  breath,  with  his  sense  of  professional  con- 
gruity.  His  mind  could  not  work  at  all  on  such  a  plan.  Least 
of  all  would  a  proud  judge  like  Bacon,  who  had  sat  for  years  in 
all  the  frozen  dignity  of  the  Lord  Chancellorship  of  England, 
have  written  a  scene  which  yielded  all  the  arbitrary  functions  of 
a  ducal  bench  to  a  beardless,  prating  boy,  or  have  turned  the 
court-room  into  a  shambles  by  permitting  the  creditor  to  cut 
his  victim  up  in  their  presence.  He  certainly  would  not  have  made 
so  high  placed  a  magistrate  as  the  Duke  exhibit  such  imbecile 
ignorance  of  the  law  as  Shakespeare  imputes  to  him,  nor  have 
conveyed  all  the  functions  of  authority  and  judgment  upon  the 
young  advocate,  in  the  face  of  the  admissions  made  by  other 
portions  of  the  text  that  the  Duke  had  ample  power  not  only  to 
adjourn  the  court,  but  to  remit  the  death  penalty  from  Shylock. 
Nay,  even  to  decree  confiscation  of  his  goods,  and  impose  every 
form  of  judgment,  out  of  hand. 

It  may  be  urged,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the  laws  of  Venice 
were  exceptionally  rigorous,  indeed  Draconian ;  and  it  has  been 
urged  "  that  the  horrible  incident  of  cutting  off  the  flesh  found 
its  origin  in  that  atrocious  decemviral  law  of  the  twelve  tables  of 
Rome,  which  empowered  a  creditor  to  mangle  the  living  body  of 
his  debtor  without  fear  of  punishment."  For  the  honour  of  the 
Roman  law,  however,  it  is  not  recorded  that  this  inhuman 
10 


134  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

privilege  ever  was  enforced.  Buddhist  legends,  and  the  Guleding 
law  of  Norway,  show  that  other  countries  permitted  the  creditor 
to  hack  off  from  the  debtor,  who  would  not  work  for  him,  as  much 
flesh  as  he  liked ;  but,  with  all,  an  equity  of  redemption  was  pro- 
vided for,  and  the  debtor  ceased  to  be  a  debtor  when  he  could 
tender  the  amount  of  his  obligation,  with  compound  interest,  or 
some  other  penalty  of  accumulation.  This  equity  presented  itself 
with  peculiar  force  in  Antonio's  case,  who  had  not  made  default 
through  dishonesty,  wastefulness,  or  any  form  of  personal 
improvidence,  but  under  lightning  and  storm,  and  the  irresistible 
visitation  of  God. 

It  is  surprising  that  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell,  in  his 
reply  to  Mr.  Payne  Collier's  inquiry — whether  Shakespeare  had 
ever  served  in  an  attorney's  office — should  not  have  responded, 
when  treating  of  the  legal  evidences  in  this  play,  by  showing 
how  utterly  ignorant  Shakespeare  was  of  the  philosophy  of  law  ; 
but  his  lordship  goes  simply  over  the  surface  of  the  play  for 
mere  phrases  of  attorneyship,  and  satisfies  himself  with  such 
terms  as  "  single  bond,"  "  let  good  Antonio  keep  Us  day"  and  with 
Shylock's  rebuke  to  the  jailor  for  taking  Antonio  out  of  prison 
for  a  walk,  (which  his  lordship  calls  Shylock's  threat  to  prosecute 
the  jailor  "  with  an  action  for  escape")  to  establish  the  conclusion 
that  Shakespeare  had  undoubtedly,  at  some  time,  served  under 
an  attorney. 

I  have  nothing  further  to  comment  upon  in  connexion  with 
"  The  Merchant  of  Venice/'  as  bearing  upon  our  inquiry,  except 
to  direct  attention  to  the  following  allusions,  which  Shake- 
speare is  so  fond  of  making  to  the  superior  human  worthiness  of 
princes  and  kings  : — 

Then  music  is 

Even  as  the  flourish  when  true  subjects  bow 
To  a  new  crowned  monarch. 

Act  III.  Scene  2. 
As,  after  some  oration  fairly  spoke 
By  a  beloved  prince,  there  doth  appear 
Among  the  buzzing  pleased  multitude, 
Where  every  something,  being  blent  together, 
Turns  to  a  wild  joy  of  nothing,  save  of  joy, 
Express'd,  and  not  express'd. 

Act  III.  Scene  2. 
Portia's  apotheosis  to  Mercy  contains  another  striking  instance 


"  The  Merchant  of  Venice''  135 

of  this  involuntary  homage; — but  finally,  in  the  fifth  act,  she 
gives  another  : — 

POE.      How  far  that  little  candle  throws  its  beams ! 

*  So  shines  a  good  deed  in  a  naught}7  world. 
NEE.      When  the  moon  shone  we  did  not  see  the  candle. 
POE.      So  doth  the  greater  glory  dim  the  less : 

A  substitute  shines  brightly  as  a  king, 

Until  a  king  be  by ;  and  then  his  state 

Empties  itself,  as  doth  an  inland  brook, 

Into  the  main  of  waters. 


136  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"MUCH   ADO   ABOUT   NOTHING." 

THE  plot  of  this  play,  according  to  Pope,  was  taken  by  Shake- 
speare from  the  fifth  book  of  Orlando  Furioso,  and  was  first 
printed  in  the  year  1600.  Steevens  thinks  that  Spenser's 
Faerie  Queene  furnished  the  main  incidents  and  groundwork  of 
the  story,  while  others  attribute  it  to  Bandello's  22nd  tale, 
Timbreo  of  Cardena.  Its  origin,  however,  is  a  matter  of  no 
importance  to  the  line  of  inquiry  we  are  upon,  and  it  has 
not  enough  expression  bearing  upon  our  points,  to  claim  much 
attention. 

The  first  thing  which  strikes  us  is  the  dialogue  that  occurs  at 
the  opening  of  the  piece,  between  Leonato  and  a  messenger,  who 
has  just  come  in  with  the  news  of  a  battle,  inasmuch  as  it  shows 
how  Shakespeare  constantly  ignores  all  consideration  for  the 
welfare  of  common  people  from  his  mind  : — 

LEONATO.  How  many  gentlemen  have  you  in  this  action  ? 
MESSENGEE.  But  few  of  any  sort,  and  none  of  name. 
LEONATO.  A  victory  is  twice  itself  when  the  achiever  brings  home  full 
numbers — 

and  here  Leonato  stops,  without  deigning  to  inquire  how  many 
common  soldiers  have  been  killed,  wounded,  and  captured. 

The  next  thing  which  attracts  our  attention  is  the  introduction 
of  a  friar  in  the  fourth  act,  who,  immediately  upon  the  unjust 
accusation  of  Hero,  takes  up  the  leading  and  most  estimable 
action  of  the  piece.  He  is  the  first  to  say  to  the  swooning  and 
barbarously  injured  maiden,  "  Have  comfort,  lady,"  and  to  thus 
beautifully  beg  of  her  accusers  a  fair  and  patient  hearing : — 

FBIAR.  Hear  me  a  little ; 

For  I  have  only  been  silent  so  long, 

And  given  way  unto  this  course  of  fortune, 


"  Much  Ado  about  Nothing"  137 

By  noting  of  the  lady;  I  have  mark'd 
A  thousand  blushing  apparitions  start 
Into  her  face ;  a  thousand  innocent  shames 
In  angel  whiteness  bear  away  those  blushes ; 
And  in  her  eye  there  hath  appear'd  a  fire, 
To  burn  the  errors  that  these  princes  hold 
Against  her  maiden  truth  : — Call  me  a  fool ; 
Trust  not  my  reading,  nor  my  observations, 
Which  with  experimental  zeal  doth  warrant 
The  tenour  of  my  book  ;  trust  not  my  age, 
My  reverence,  calling,  nor  divinity 
If  this  sweet  lady  lie  not  guiltless  here 
Under  some  biting  error. 

LEQNATO.  Friar,  it  cannot  be ; 

Thou  seest,  that  all  the  grace  that  she  hath  left, 
Is,. that  she  will  not  add  to  her  damnation 
A  sin  of  perjury  ;  she  not  denies  it: 
Why  seek'st  thou  then  to  cover  with  excuse 
That  which  appears  in  proper  nakedness  ? 

The  benevolent  and  sagacious  friar,  nevertheless,  persists ;  and 
finally,  by  suggesting  the  device  that  the  lady  shall  be  reported 
dead  until  the  slander  is  cleared  up,  succeeds  in  vindicating  her 
fair  fame,  and  in  bringing  everything  to  a  happy  termination. 
In  pursuance  of  this  pious  plan  of  the  worthy  father,  Shake- 
speare, of  course,  introduces  the.  convent  or  monastery,  which  he 
ever  seems  to  have  on  hand,  and  which,  as  in  the  following  lines 
of  the  friar,  he  always  gives  a  good  account  of : — 

FBIAB.  You  may  conceal  her 

(As  best  befits  her  wounded  reputation) 
In  some  reclusive  and  religious  life, 
Out  of  all  eyes,  tongues,  minds,  and  injuries. 

Finally  the  friar  is  successful,  and  has  the  great  triumph  of  being 
able  to  exclaim,  in  the  last  scene, — 

Did  I  not  tell  you  she  was  innocent  ? 

This  brings  the  hymeneal  fates  of  Benedick  and  Beatrice  to  a 
crisis ;  and,  Benedick,  having  secured  the  consent  of  Beatrice, 
addresses  himself  to  her  father  for  his  acquiescence.  He  thus  con- 
signs himself  to  the  hands  of  the  good  friar  for  his  mediation  :— 

BENEDICK.  My  will  is,  that  your  good  will 

May  stand  with  ours,  this  day  to  be  conjoin'd 

In  the  estate  of  honourable  marriage ; 

In  which,  good  friar,  I  shall  desire  your  help. 


1 38  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

It  will  be  seen,  therefore,  that  in  this  play,  as  in  "  Measure  for 
Measure,"  "  The  Comedy  of  Errors,"  and  all  we  have  thus  far 
scrutinized,  Shakespeare  loses  no  opportunity  to  exhibit  his 
profound  reverence  and  superior  respect  for  the  Koman  Catholic 
faith.  His  priests  and  female  devotees  are  filled  with  all  the 
known  virtues,  and  are  always  chosen  as  his  favourite  instruments 
for  the  moral  adjustment  of  his  plots. 

Before  disposing-  of  this  piece,  I  cannot  avoid  remarking  upon 
the  singular  and  painful  inappropriateness  of  the  levity  of  Claudio 
in  his  gibing  scene  with  Benedick,  immediately  after  the  de- 
grading and  tragic  death  of  his  betrothed ;  nor  can  I  help  pro- 
testing against  the  gross  obscenity  of  some  of  the  dialogues  in 
which  Beatrice  takes  a  leading  part.  Though  she  is  represented 
as  a  lady  of  the  highest  rank  and  refinement,,  we  are  brought 
irresistibly  to  the  conclusion,  that  our  poet  could  not  have  had  as 
good  an  opportunity  of  knowing  what  high-bred  ladies  were,  as 
had  Lord  Bacon. 

KNOWLEDGE   OF   LAW. 

The  evidences  which  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell  finds  of 
Shakespeare's  knowledge  of  the  law,  in  "Much  Ado  about 
Nothing,"  are  hardly  worthy  of  our  serious  attention.  His 
lordship  thinks  that  the  characters  of  Dogberry  and  Verges  were 
meant  to  satirize  the  ignorance  of  parish  constables,  and  possibly 
were  aimed  as  high  as  at  "  Chairmen  at  Quarter  Sessions  and 
even  Judges  of  Assize,  with  whose  performances  he  (Shakespeare) 
may  probably  have  become  acquainted  at  Warwick  and  else- 
where." His  lordship  then  delivers  himself  upon  Dogberry's 
learning  as  follows  : — 

<e  If  the  different  parts  of  Dogberry's  charge  are  strictly 
examined,  it  will  be  found  that  the  author  of  it  had  a  very 
respectable  acquaintance  with  crown  law.  The  problem  was  to 
save  the  constables  from  all  trouble,  danger,  and  responsibility, 
without  any  regard  to  the  public  safety. 

"  DOGB.  If  you  meet  a  thief,  you  may  suspect  him  by  virtue  of  your  office, 
to  be  no  true  man  ;  and  for  such  kind  of  men,  the  less  you  meddle  or  make 
with  them,  why,  the  more  is  for  your  honesty. 

"  2  WATCH.  If  we  know  him  to  be  a  thief,  shall  we  not  lay  hands  on 
him? 

"  DOGB.  Truly,  by  your  office  you  may ;    but,  I  think,  they  that  touch 


"As  You  Like  It:'  139 

pitch  will  be  defiled.     The  most  peaceable  way  for  you,  if  you  do  take  a 
thief,  is  to  let  him  show  himself  what  he  is,  and  steal  out  of  your  company. 

"  Now  there  can  be  no  doubt/'  says  Campbell,  "  that  Lord 
Coke  himself  could  not  more  accurately  have  denned  the  power 
of  a  peace-officer." 

It  seems  to  me  that  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell,  who  over- 
looked the  gross  violations  of  the  philosophy  of  law  exhibited  in 
"  The  Merchant  of  Venice  "  when  he  was  reviewing  that  play, 
must  have  been  much  below  himself,  not  only  at  that  time,  but 
when  he  selected  the  above  absurd  travestie,  or  dog-law,  as  it 
might  be  called,  as  an  evidence  of  Shakespeare's  proficiency  in 
law  learning. 


AS    YOU    LIKE    IT. 


The  plot  of  this  play  is  borrowed,  according*  to  Shakespeare's 
usual  custom ;  but,  the  characters  having  passed  through  the 
magical  alembic  of  his  mind,  are  distinct  and  breathing  creatures, 
which  are  entirely  his  own.  The  story  is  taken  from  Lynde's 
"  Rosalynd,"  or  "  Euphues'  Golden  Legacy/'  published  in 
London  as  late  as  1590,  and  this  play  appears  in  1600.  Shake- 
speare, however,  adds  three  new  characters  to  it — those  of  Jaques, 
Audrey,  and  the  Clown,  while  of  the  other  characters,  it  may  be 
said,  that  the  passage  of  them  through  the  hands  of  our  poet,  is 
like  the  transmutation  of  base  metals  into  gold. 

The  first  act  of  "  As  You  Like  It "  opens  by  introducing 
Orlando,  the  youngest  son  of  Sir  Rowland  de  Bois,  deceased,  who 
is  living  in  idle  dependence  upon  his  eldest  brother  Oliver,  the 
heir  of  the  whole  of  the  estate.  With  Orlando  appears  an 
aged  servant  of  Sir  Rowland's,  who  is  especially  attached  to  the 
young  man,  and  who,  when  the  latter  is  banished,  resolves  to 
follow  his  fortunes  into  exile,  in  preference  to  remaining  with 
the  elder  brother.  This  servant's  name  is  Adam,  and  in  the 
original  story  by  Lynde  he  is  represented  to  be  an  Englishman. 

The  first  act  contains  a  scene  in  which  Orlando  wrestles  with 
one  Monsieur  Charles,  a  professional  athlete ;  and,  of  course,  he 
overthrows  the  brawny  peasant  as  (according  to  all  the  laws  of 
Shakespearian  discrimination)  a  young  nobleman  should  do. 
This  victory  obtains  for  Orlando  the  favour  of  Rosalind,  the 
daughter  of  the  banished  duke,  but  it  gets  Orlando  banished. 


140  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Rosalind,  thereupon/ puts  on  a  disguise  and  follows  him,  and 
Celia  (the  daughter  of  the  reigning  duke),  whose  heart  and 
Rosalind's  have  beaten  in  friendship  against  each  other's  ribs 
since  the  hour  of  their  mutual  truckle-bed,  decides  promptly  to 
desert  her  father's  court  and  go  along  with  her. 

Faithful  Old  Adam,  of  course,  accompanies  Orlando,  and  inas- 
much as  the  portrait  of  this  old  servitor  may  be  said  to  be  the 
solitary  instance  in  the  whole  of  Shakespeare's  writings,  where 
a  poor  or  an  humble  person  escapes  our  poet's  contempt,1  I  will 
give  it  in  full. 

OBLANDO.  Why,  whither,  Adam,  wouldst  thou  have  me  go  ? 

ADAM.        No  matter  whither,  so  you  stay  not  here. 

OEL.  What,  wouldst  thou  have  me  go  and  beg  my  food  ? 

Or,  with  a  base  and  boisterous  sword,  enforce 

A  thievish  living  on  the  common  road  ? 

This  I  must  do,  or  know  not  what  to  do  ; 

Yet  this  I  will  not  do,  do  how  I  can  ; 

I  rather  will  subject  me  to  the  malice 

Of  a  diverted  blood,  and  bloody  brother. 
ADAM.        But  do  not  so ;  I  have  five  hundred  crowns, 

The  thrifty  hire  I  saved  under  your  father, 

Which  I  did  store,  to  be  my  foster-nurse, 

When  service  should  in  my  old  limbs  lie  lame, 

And  unregarded  age  in  corners  thrown ; 

Take  that ;  and  He  that  doth  the  ravens  feed, 

Yea,  providently  caters  for  the  sparrow, 

Be  comfort  to  my  age !     Here  is  the  gold — 

All  this  I  give  you ;  let  me  be  your  servant ; 

Though  I  look  old,  yet  I  am  strong  and  lusty. 

For  in  my  youth  I  never  did  apply 

Hot  and  rebellious  liquors  in  my  blood : 

Nor  did  not,  with  unbashful  forehead,  woo 

The  means  of  weakness  and  debility ; 

Therefore,  my  age  is  as  a  lusty  winter — 

Frosty,  but  kindly.     Let  me  go  with  you ; 

I'll  do  the  service  of  a  younger  man 

In  all  your  business  and  necessities. 
OEL.  O,  good  old  man ;  how  well  in  thee  appears 

The  constant  service  of  the  antique  world, 

When  service  sweat  for  duty,  not  for  meed ! 

Thou  art  not  for  the  fashion  of  these  times, 

1  There  is  one  other  quasi  instance  of  a  servant's  faithfulness  in  "  Timon  of 
Athens,"  but  I  will  deal  with  that  in  its  due  order. 


"  As  You  Like  It."  i4I 

Where  none  will  sweat  but  for  promotion  ; 
And  having  that,  do  choke  their  service  up. 
Even  with  the  having :  it  is  not  so  with  thee. 
But,  poor  old  man,  thou  prun'st  a  rotten  tree 
That  cannot  so  much  as  a  blossom  yield 
In  lieu  of  all  thy  pains  and  husbandry. 
But  come  thy  ways ;  we'll  go  along  together, 
And  ere  we  have  thy  youthful  wages  spent 
We'll  light  upon  some  settled  low  content. 
ADAM.        Master,  go  on,  and  I  will  follow  thee 

To  the  last  gasp  with  truth  and  loyalty. 

From  seventeen  years,  till  now,  almost  fourscore, 

Here  lived  I,  but  now  live  here  no  more. 

At  seventeen  years,  many  their  fortunes  seek, 

But  at  fourscore  it  is  too  late  a  week  ; 

Yet  fortune  cannot  recompense  me  better 

Than  to  die  well,  and  not  my  master's  debtor. 

This  is  the  picture  of  a  poor  but  grateful  and  very  worthy 
man,  and  from  the  style  in  which  it  is  presented,  cannot  fail  to 
challenge  our  admiration.  But,  there  are  three  motives  to  be 
traced  in  this  instance  where  Shakespeare  has  departed  from 
his  contemptuous  rule  against  the  poor.  First,  the  servant  is  an 
English  servant,  which  is  one  inducement  for  our  poet  (who 
is  always  intensely  English)  to  represent  him  favourably  j  next, 
Adam's  fidelity  serves  the  constant  Shakespearian  purpose  of  in*- 
culcating  loyalty  and  obedience  of  servants  to  their  masters ;  but 
Shakespeare's  main  object  doubtless,  is,  to  make  Adam  operate 
as  a  foil  or  stimulant  to  the  superior  virtues  of  the  noble  young 
Orlando,  who  is  willing  to  fight  a  whole  forest  full  of  people  to 
obtain  the  old  man  food.  Being  exceedingly  hungry  himself, 
however,  it  is  not  difficult  for  us  to  account  for  the  savage 
determination  which  Orlando  exhibits  in  this  enterprise. 

It  is  worthy  of  observation,  however,  that  Shakespeare,  having 
found  this  character  of  Adam  ready  made  to  his  hand,  could 
hardly  exclude  it  from  the  plot ;  and  especially  deserving  of  our 
notice,  that  while,  in  the  original  story  of  Lynde,  the  faith- 
fulness of  Adam  is  rewarded,  Shakespeare  passes  him  out  of  his 
hands  entirely  without  recompense.  One  of  the  early  critics, 
noticing  this  fact,  says,  "  Shakespeare  has  made  an  interesting 
use  of  Lynde's  story,  with  the  exception  of  the  character  of 
Adam,  whose  fidelity  is  strangely  neglected ;  whereas  in  Lynde's 
novel  he  is  justly  rewarded." 


142  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Bearing  further  upon  Shakespeare's  estimation  of  the  lower 
orders,  we  find  the  following,  Act  I.  Scene  2  : — 

1  £OKD.  Anon  a  careless  nerd, 

Full  of  the  pasture,  jumps  along  by  him, 

And  never  stays  to  greet  him.     "  Ay,"  quoth  Jaques, 

"  Sweep  on,  you  fat  and  greasy  citizens  ; 

'Tis  just  the  fashion  ;  wherefore  do  you  look 

Upon  that  poor  and  broken  bankrupt  there?" 

Among  the  internal  evidences  in  this  play  of  Shakespeare's 
religion,  the  first  that  comes  before  us,  is  the  use  made  by  the 
Duke  Frederick  of  the  Catholic  word  -purgation :  "  Thus  do  all 
traitors;  if  their  purgation  did  consist  in  words;"  but  I  admit 
that  this  evidence  is  a  slight  one.  The  next,  however,  which 
drops  from  the  Duke,  senior,  in  Act  II.  Scene  7,  is  a  more  dis- 
tinctive Catholic  symptom : — 

DUKE  S.  True  is  it  that  we  have  seen  better  days ; 

And  have  with  Iwly  bell  been  knoll'd  to  church. 

We  know,  of  course,  that  Protestant  churches,  like  Catholic 
ones,  summon  their  devotees  together  by  the  tolling  of  bells ;  but 
while  the  Protestant  bells  are,  in  themselves,  only  an  ordinary 
piece  of  unrespected  church  furniture,  the  church  bells  of  the 
Catholics  are  always  formally  consecrated  and  blessed.  A  Pro- 
testant would  never  think  of  using  such  a  term  as  "  holy  bell ;" 
a  Catholic  could  not  think  of  a  church  bell  without  applying  it. 

The  next  proof  we  have  of  Shakespeare's  Catholicity  in  this 
play,  occurs  in  the  third  scene  of  the  third  act,  where  Touchstone, 
the  court  clown,  says  to  Audrey,  the  country  wench, — 

But  be  it  as  it  may  be,  I  will  marry  thee :  and  to  that  end,  I  have  been 
with  Sir  Oliver  Mar-text,  the  vicar  of  the  next  village ;  who  hath  promised 
to  meet  me  in  this  place  of  the  forest,  and  to  couple  us.  .  .  Here  comes 
Sir  Oliver — Sir  Oliver  Mar-text,  you  are  well  met :  Will  you  despatch  us  here 
under  this  tree,  or  shall  we  go  with  you  to  your  chapel  ? 

SIR  OLIVER.  Is  there  none  here  to  give  the  woman  ? 

TOUCHSTONE.  I  will  not  take  her  on  gift  of  any  man. 

SIR  OLIVER.  Truly,  she  must  be  given,  or  the  marriage  is  not  lawful. 

At  this  critical  moment,  the  cj7nical  and  philosophic  Jaques 
appears  from  the  covert,  and  says, — 

Proceed,  proceed  :  I'll  give  her.     .     .     .     Will  you  be  married,  motley  ? 
TOUCHSTONE.  As  the  ox  hath  his  bow,  sir,  the  horse  his  curb,  and  the 


"As  You  Like  I C.  43 

falcon  her  bells,  so  man  hath  his  desires ;  and,  as  pigeons  bill,  so  wedlock 
would  be  nibbling. 

JAQUES.  And  will  you,  being  a  man  of  your  breeding,  be  married  under  a 
bush,  like  a  beggar  ?  Get  you  to  church,  and  have  a  good  priest  that  can 
tell  you  what  marriage  is  ;  this  fellow  will  but  join  you  together  as  they 
join  wainscot ;  then,  one  of  you  will  prove  a  shrunk  panel,  and,  like  green 
timber,  warp,  warp. 

TOUCHSTONE.  I  am  not  in  the  mind,  but  I  were  better  to  be  married  of 
him  than  another :  for  he  is  not  like  to  marry  me  well,  and  not  being  well 
married,  it  will  be  a  good  excuse  for  me  hereafter  to  leave  my  wife. 

JAQUES.  Go  thou  with  me,  and  let  me  counsel  thee. 

TOUCHSTONE.  Farewell,  good  master  Oliver ! 

SIE  OLIVES.  'Tis  no  matter ;  ne'er  a  fantastical  knave  of  them  all  shall 
flout  me  out  of  my  calling. 

It  is  obvious  that  this  sorry  treatment  of  Sir  Oliver  by  Shake- 
speare, indicates  that  Sir  Oliver  is  a  Protestant  preacher.  In  the 
next  scene  Rosalind  says, — 

And  his  kissing  is  as  full  of  sanctity  as  the  touch  of  holy  bread. 
What  Protestant  would  ever  speak  of  holy  bread  ? 

CELIA.  He  hath  bought  a  pair  of  cast  lips  of  Diana :  a  nun  of  winter's 
sisterhood  kisses  not  more  religiously ;  the  very  ice  of  chastity  is  in  them. 

Ill  these  extracts  we  have  the  contrast  clearly  marked  by 
Shakespeare^  estimation,  relatively,  between  a  Protestant  vicar 
and  a  Catholic  priest ;  and  in  the  latter,  with  its  exquisite  defini- 
tion of  conventual  purity,  we  have  the  spontaneous  illustrations 
of  a  Catholic  soul. 

There  are  but  two  further  observations  which  I  wish  to  make 
upon  this  play.  The  first  is,  that  Rosalind  is  more  to  be  con- 
demned for  the  licentious  impropriety  of  her  language  than 
Beatrice  in  f<  Much  Ado  about  Nothing;"  and,  in  this  respect,  is 
even  less  of  a  lady  than  Beatrice,  though  Shakespeare  tries  to 
make  her  more  of  one.  My  next  observation  is,  that  wickedness, 
as  represented  in  its  most  execrable  form  in  Orlando's  elder 
brother,  is  as  hastily  presented  for  the  forgiveness  of  the  audience, 
as  in  the  cases  of  Proteus  in  the  "  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona/' 
and  of  4;he  fiend  Angelo  in  "  Measure  for  Measure."  The  moral 
of  the  play  is,  therefore,  not  only  bad,  but,  what  is  more  to  the 
point,  does  not  indicate  that  professional  sense  of  the  neces- 
sities of  retribution,  which  might  be  expected  from  any  real 
lawyer's  mind.  In  my  opinion,  a  lawyer  like  Bacon  would  never 
have  dreamed  of  forgiving  Oliver,  Proteus,  or  Angelo. 


144  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Lord  Campbell,,  nevertheless,  finds  several  evidences  of  Shake- 
speare's familiarity  with  law  practice  or  attorneyship  in  this 
play,  such,  for  instance,  as  Rosalind's  pert  expression,  in  the  first 
act,  of  "  Be  it  known  unto  all  men  by  these  presents/'  His 
lordship  next  notices  the  words  testament  and  bankrupt,  both 
applied  by  the  poet  only  to  a  wounded  deer,  as  indications  of 
Shakespeare's  law  attainments,  and  further  on  reinforces  his  case, 
by  quoting  the  casual  use  of  such  words  as  attorney,  and  such 
phrases  as  term  and  term  as  applied  to  lawyers'  habits;  even 
lugging  in  the  following,  as  applicable  to  his  proof : — 

ROSALIND.  Well,  Time  is  the  old  JUSTICE  that  examines  all  offenders,  and 
let  TIME  try. 

But  what  Lord  Campbell  dwells  upon,  as  if  conclusive  of  Shake- 
speare's possession  of  very  considerable  legal  attainments,  is 
"  that  the  usurping  Duke  Frederick,  who  wishing  all  the  real  pro- 
perty of  Oliver  to  be  seized,  awards  a  writ  of  extent  against  him  in 
language  which  would,"  says  his  lordship,  "  be  used  by  the  Lord 
Chief  Baron  of  the  Court  of  Exchequer  : — 

"  DUKE  FEED.  Make  an  extent  upon  his  house  and  lands. 

"  This,"  continues  his  lordship,  "  is  an  extendi  facias  applying  to 
house  and  lands,  as  a  fieri  facias  would  apply  to  goods  and 
chattels,  or  a  capias  ad  satisfaciendum  to  the  person."  All  of 
which  learned  and  erudite  observation,  I  beg  to  remark,  goes  to 
show  the  extent  to  which  his  lordship  had  become  confused  by 
his  unusual  literary  task,  rather  than  to  prove  anything  else. 


f 

"  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew"  145 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"THE  TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW.-" 

"  THE  Taming  of  the  Shrew  "  contributes  nothing  of  importance 
to  our  inquiry.  It  is  one  of  the  weakest  of  our  poet's  produc- 
tions, and  is  founded,  says  Malone,  on  an  anonymous  play  of 
nearly  the  same  title,  "  The  Taming  of  a  Shrew/'  which  was 
probably  written  about  the  year  1590,  either  by  George  Peele  or 
Robert  Greene.  Shakespeare  produced  his  play  in  1597,  and  it 
was  first  printed  in  the  folio  of  1623.  The  outline  of  the 
Induction  is  supposed  to  have  been  taken  from  "The  Sleeper 
Awakened1"  of  the  Arabian  Nights.  The  feature  which  most 
strikes  us  on  a  general  perusal  is,  that  Katharine,  the  heroine,  is 
not  a  whit  more  nice  or  modest  in  her  language  than  Beatrice  or 
Rosalind ;  and  thus  contributes  to  the  conviction,  that  Shakespeare 
had  had  but  poor  opportunities  of  closely  studying  true  ladies 
and  their  manners — a  study  in  which  Lord  Bacon,  doubtless, 
had  greatly  the  advantage  of  him. 

The  play  contains  some  evidences  of  the  contempt  our  poet 
had  for  every  one  of  lowly  birth  or  humble  calling.  In  the 
induction,  while  a  nobleman  is  amusing  himself  by  misleading 
the  drunken  wits  of  Christopher  Sly,  a  trumpet  is  heard,  and  a 
servant,  who  is  commissioned  to  ascertain  what  it  means,  reports 
by  ushering  in  a  lot  of  players,  whom  my  lord  thus  addresses : — 

LOED.  'Now  fellows  you  are  welcome. 

PLAYEES.  "We  thank  your  honour. 

LOED.  Do  you  intend  to  stay  with  me  to-night  ? 

2  PLATES.     So  please  your  lordship  to  accept  our  duty. 

LOED.  With  all  my  heart.— This  fellow  I  remember, 

Go,  sirrah,  take  them  to  the  buttery, 
And  give  them  friendly  welcome  every  one : 
Let  them  want  nothing  that  my  house  affords. 


146    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

In  Act  IV.  Scene  1,  Petruchio,  angrily  addressing  Grumio,  his 
servant,  exclaims, — 

You  peasant  swain !  you  whoreson  malt-horse  drudge ! 

And  in  Act  V.  Scene  2,  Katharine  folds  her  arms  submissively 
across  her  breast  and  bows  as  if  before  anointed  royalty  : — 

KATHAEINE.  Such  duty  as  the  subject  owes  the  prince, 
Even  such,  a  woman  oweth  to  her  husband. 

Lord  Campbell  finds  many  evidences  in  "  The  Taming  of  the 
Shrew  "  of  our  poet's  knowledge  of  the  law.  He  says  that  in  the 
"  Induction/'  Shakespeare  betrays  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the 
matters  which  may  be  prosecuted  as  offences  before  the  Court 
Leet,  the  lowest  court  of  criminal  judicature  in  England.  We 
quote  his  lordship  : — 

"  He "  (Shakespeare)  "  puts  the  following  speech  into  the 
mouth  of  a  servant,  who  is  trying  to  persuade  Sly  he  is  a 
great  lord,  and  that  he  had  been  in  a  dream  for  fifteen  years, 
during  which  time  he  had  ignorantly  imagined  himself  to  be  a 
mere  frequenter  of  alehouses  : — 

For  though  you  lay  here  in  this  goodly  chamber, 
Yet  would  you  say,  you  were  beaten  out  of  door, 
And  rail  upon  the  hostess  of  the  house, 
And  say  you  would  present  her  at  the  leet, 
Because  she  brought  stone  jugs,  and  no  seal'd  quarts. 

"  Now,  in  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth  and  James  I.,"  says  his  lord- 
ship, "  there  was  a  very  wholesome  law,  that,  for  the  protection  of 
the  public  against  '  false  measures/  ale  should  be  sold  only  in 
sealed  vessels  of  the  standard  "capacity;  and  the  violation  of  the 
law  was  to  be  presented  at  the  '  Court  Leet/  or  '  View  of 
Frankpledge/  held  in  every  hundred,  manor,  or  lordship,  before 
the  steward  of  the  leet." 

His  lordship  finds  his  next  illustration  in  Scene  2  of  Act  I., 
where  Tranio  says, — 

Please  ye,  we  may  contrive  this  afternoon, 
And  quaff  carouses  to  our  mistress'  health ; 
And  do  as  adversaries  do  in  law, 
Strive  mightily,  but  eat  and  drinlc  as  friends. 

Keally;  it  would  seem  as  if  some  of  the  admiring  commen- 


" Loves  Labour's  Lost"  147 

tators  of  Shakespeare  labour  at  times  to  prove  him  to  have  been 
an -idiot.  Nothing  can  be  more  evident,  than  that  any  man  of 
ordinary  intelligence  must  have  had  the  stone-jug  law  forced 
upon  his  observation  an  hundred  times,  and  particularly  in  a 
country  town  like  Stratford ;  while  the  fictitious  quarrels  of  paid 
advocates  have  been  the  subject  of  every  yokel's  sneer  since  pro- 
ceedings at  law  were  first  made  public.  Lord  Campbell  finally 
points  to  Katharine's  use  of  the  word  craven,  with  the  remark 
that  "  All  lawyers  know  craven  to  be  the  word  spoken  by  a 
champion  who  acknowledged  he  was  beaten,  and  declared  that  he 
would  fight  no  more,  whereupon  judgment  was  immediately 
given  against  the  side  which  he  supported,  and  he  bore  the 
infamous  name  of  craven  for  the  rest  of  his  days.-" 

I  doubt  if  any  reader  will  require  a  word  from  me  to  rebut  this 
sort  of  argument. 


"  LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST." 

This  play  is  one  of  the  few  that  were  published  during  Shake- 
speare's lifetime,  the  date  of  its  appearance  in  print  being  fixed 
at  1598.  It  is  one  of  the  weakest  of  our  poet's  productions; 
and,  if  he  had  been  asked  for  the  plot  of  it,  says  Knight,  he 
might  have  answered,  anticipating  Canning's  knife-grinder, 
"  Story !  God  bless  you  !  I  have  none  to  tell,  sir."  Dr.  Johnson 
declares  it  to  be  filled  with  passages  that  are  "  mean,  childish 
and  vulgar,  and  some  which  ought  not  to  have  been  exhibited, 
as  we  are  told  they  were,  to  a  maiden  queen."  "  Nevertheless," 
adds  the  Doctor,  "  there  are  scattered  through  the  whole  many 
sparks  of  genius :  nor  is  there  any  play  that  has  more  evident 
marks  of  the  hand  of  Shakespeare." 

The  scene  is  laid  in  Navarre,  but  there  is  no  period  assigned 
for  the  story;  which  seems  to  have  a  roving  commission,  ranging 
anywhere  through  the  fifteenth  to  the  seventeenth  centuries. 
The  first  lines  which  attract  our  attention  are  those  by  which 
the  Princess  of  France  repels  a  fulsome  compliment  paid  to  her 
by  her  Lord  Chamberlain,  and  which  contain  a  contemptuous 
estimation  of  persons  engaged  in  trade  : — 

PEINCESS.  Good  Lord  Boyet,  my  beauty,  though  but  mean, 
Needs  not  the  painted  flourish  of  your  praise  ; 


148    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Beauty  is  bought  by  judgment  of  the  eye, 
Not  utter'd  by  base  sale  of  chapman's  tongues. 

The  next  is  a  law  phrase  by  one  of  the  Princess's  ladies  : — 
My  lips  are  no  common,  though  several  they  be. 

In  Act  IV.  Scene  £,  we  have  the  introduction  of  Sir  Nathaniel, 
a  foolish  parson  or  curate,  and  of  Holofernes,  his  friend,  a  Pro- 
testant pedant.  Sir  Nathaniel  characterizes  himself  by  saying 
to  Holofernes, — 

SIB  NATHANIEL.  I  praise  the  Lord  for  you ;  and  so  may  my  parishioners  ; 
for  their  sons  are  well  tutored  by  you,  and  their  daughters  profit  very  greatly 
under  you. 

Again,  the  peasants  Jaquenetta  and  Costard  call  Sir  Nathaniel 
"good  master  parson/''  Shakespeare  treats  both  of  these 
characters  with  contemptuous  levity.  Finally  they  are  made 
the  derision  of  the  lords  and  ladies,  and  the  butt  of  their  scur- 
rilous wit  in  a  foolish  dramatic  personation  of  the  "  Nine 
Worthies,"  in  which  the  insults  of  the  courtly  audience  are  so 
mean  and  merciless,  that  Holofernes,  who  is  a  kindly,  worthy 
man,  complains  against  the  outrage  with  an  earnest  gentleness 
which  is  so  absolutely  touching,  that  if  the  lords  and  ladies  had 
possessed  any  sense  of  shame,  the  reproach  would  have  covered 
them  with  blushes.  Being  called  an  ass  while  reciting  his  lines 
to  the  best  of  his  ability,  he  thus  appeals  : — 

This  is  not  generous ;  not  gentle  ;  not  humble. 

Instead,  however,  of  feeling  this  rebuke,  the  scorn  of  the  courtiers 
rapidly  grows  coarser.  Shakespeare  never  subjects  his  monks  and 
priests  to  this  kind  of  insult.  The  Princess  and  her  maids  of 
honour,  Rosaline,  Maria,  and  Katherine,  are  all  of  the  Beatrice 
and  Katharina  stamp  ;  and  their  language  is  frequently  of  such 
a  licentious  character  that  it  could  not  be  transcribed  to  modern 
print,  outside  of  the  tolerated  leaves  of  Shakespeare.  The  only 
shadow  of  excuse  I  can  find  for  our  poet  in  this  respect,  is  that 
R/abelais,  whom  he  quotes  in  "  As  You  Like  It,"  was  then 
in  the  height  of  his  obscene  popularity,  and  had,  to  a  certain 
extent,  vilely  infected  much  of  the  literary  mind  of  Europe. 
Happily,  few  but  mere  scholars  reads  that  singularly  objection- 
able writer  now. 

The  law  phrase  which  I  have  pointed  out  above — 
My  lips  are  no  common,  though  several  they  be, 


"  Loves  Labour  s  Lost'.'  149 

— seems  to  have  escaped  the  observation  of  Lord  Campbell ;  but 
he  gives  us  in  recompense  the  following  from  the  first  act : — 

"  In  Act  I.  Scene  I/'  says  his  lordship,  "  we  have  an  extract 
from  the  report  by  Don  Adriano  de  Armado,  of  the  infraction  he 
had  witnessed  of  the  King's  proclamation  by  Costard  with  Jaque- 
netta ;  and  it  is  drawn  up  in  the  true,  lawyer-like,  tautological 
dialect, — which  is  to  be  paid  for,  at  so  much  a  folio  : — 

"  Then  for  the  place  where  ;  where,  2  mean,  I  did  encounter  that  obscene 
and  most  preposterous  event,  that  draweth  from  my  snoio-white  pen  the 
ebon-coloured  ink,  which  here  thou  viewest,  beholdest,  surveyest,  or  seest. 

Sim  I  (as  my  ever-esteemed  duty  Ancles  me  on)  have  sent  to  thee, 

to  receive  the  meed  of  punishment,  by  thy  sweet  grace's  officer,  Antony 
Dull ;  a  man  of  good  repute,  carriage,  bearing,  and  estimation. 

"  The  gifted  Shakespeare,"  adds  his  lordship,  "  might  perhaps 
have  been  capable,  by  intuition,  of  thus  imitating  the  con- 
veyancer's jargon ;  but  no  ordinary  man  could  have  hit  it  off  so 
exactly,  without  having  engrossed  in  an  attorney's  office." 

Finally,  our  poet,  having  got  through  with  his  gibes  and  his 
jeers,  his  oblique  morality,  his  obscene  wit  and  his  merciless 
roasting  of  the  Protestants,  uncovers  his  reserved  monastery, 
which  he  always  seems  to  have  cosily  wrapped  in  a  handkerchief 
under  his  arm,  and  sets  it  down  reverently  and  complacently 
before  us : — 

PEINCESS.  Your  oath  I  will  not  trust ;  but  go  with  speed 
To  some  forlorn  and  naked  hermitage, 
Remote  from  all  the  pleasures  of  the  world; 
There  stay,  until  the  twelve  celestial  signs 
Save  brought  about  their  annual  reckoning : 
If  this  austere  insociable  life 
Change  not  your  offer  made  in  heat  of  blood  ; 
If  frosts,  and  fasts,  hard  lodging,  and  thin  weeds, 
Nip  not  the  gaudy  blossoms  of  your  love, 
But  that  it  bear  this  trial,  and  last  love;   . 
Then,  at  the  expiration  of  the  year, 
Come  challenge,  challenge  me  by  these  deserts, 
And,  by  this  virgin  palm,  now  kissing  thine, 
I  will  be  thine ;  and,  till  that  instant,  shut 
My  woeful  self  up  in  a  mourning  house; 
Eaining  the  tears  of  lamentation, 
For  the  remembrance  of  my  father's  death. 
If  this  thou  do  deny,  let  our  hands  part ; 
Neither  intitled  in  the  other's  heart. 
11 


150    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

This  grand  coup  in  favour  of  a  monastery  and  a  convent  closes 
up  the  play.  Be  it  observed,  however,  that  the  introduction  of 
neither  is  necessary  to  the  year's  postponement;  the  death  of 
the  father  of  the  Princess  being  sufficient,  in  itself,  for  that 
furlough  of  the  action. 


"  A  HJs  Well  that  Ends  Well?  1 5  r 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL/-* 

THE  story  of  this  play  was  taken  by  Shakespeare  from  the 
romantic  story  in  Boccaccio,  called  "  Giletta  of  Narbon ; "  though 
it  came  immediately  to  our  poet's  hand,  says  Dr.  Farmer,  from 
Paynter's  "  Palace  of  Pleasure/'  which  was  printed  in  1575. 
Shakespeare  transposed  its  scenes  into  a  drama  in  about  1589, 
adding  the  four  characters  of  Parolles,  Lafeu,  the  Countess,  and 
the  Clown,  which,  under  his  magical  touch,  have  been  made, 
with  the  exception  of  Helena,  the  most  interesting  characters  of 
the  dramatis  personse.  The  play  was  published,  according  to  the 
best  accounts,  about  the  year  1598,  under  the  title  of  "Love's 
Labour's  Won,"  and  was  doubtless  intended  to  be  an  offset  or 
counterpart  to  "  Love's  Labour's  Lost."  It  was  retouched  and 
reproduced  in  1601-2,  under  the  new  title  of  "All's  Well  that 
Ends  Well,"  which  re- naming  was  suggested  and  justified  by 
the  words  of  Helena,  towards  the  close : — 

AW s  well  that  ends  well :  still  the  fine's  the  crown ; 
Whate'er  the  course,  the  end  is  the  renown. 

She  again  uses  the  same  expression  in  Act  V.  Scene  1 ;  while 
the  King,  in  his  last  speech,  closes  with  "  All  yet  seems  well." 
The  phrase  finally  appears  in  the  epilogue,  under  the  form  of 
"All  is  well  ended" — though  this  might  have  been  written 
in  at  the  time  of  reproduction,  in  order  to  give  the  change  of 
title  a  still  further  warrant. 

The  story  of  the  piece  is  very  simple.  The  King,  who  pos- 
sesses the  highest  personal  virtues,  is  ill  with  an  incurable  disease, 
and  is  fast  wearing  to  the  grave,  to  the  unbounded  regret  of  all 
his  subjects.  Helena,  the  heroine,  is  the  beautiful  daughter  of 
the  deceased  Gerard  de  Narbon,  who  in  his  lifetime  was  the 
most  eminent  physician  in  the  kingdom,  and  had  the  honour  of 


152    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

the  King's  personal  friendship.  Helena,  herself,  though  poor, 
has  therefore  rank  enough  to  be  a  gentlewoman,  and,  as  such,  is 
taken  under  the  protection  of  the  Countess  of  Rousillon,  the 
mother  of  Bertram,  of  whom  she  becomes  enamoured.  She  is 
prudent  enough,  however,  to  conceal  her  love,  in  consequence  of 
the  difference  in  degree  between  herself  and  that  high-born  lord. 
She  worships  Bertram,  therefore,  only  as  the  Indian  does  the  sun, 
without  hope  of  getting  possession  of  him,  until  she  suddenly  be- 
thinks her  of  some  secret  remedies  left  by  her  father,  one  of  which 
happens  fortunately  to  be  a  specific  for  the  King's  disease.  She 
then  conceives  the  idea  of  going  to  the  King  and  agreeing  to  restore 
him  to  health  within  eight  days,  at  the  risk  of  her  own  life,  pro- 
vided he  will  confer  upon  her  the  hand  of  such  one  of  the  young 
feudal  lords  of  his  court,  who  are'  in  ward  to  him,  as  she  may 
select.  She  succeeds  in  restoring  the  King  to  health,  and  there- 
upon chooses  Bertram.  The  proud  young  nobleman  resists  the 
match,  but  being  forced  to  it  by  the  King,  he  at  once  absconds 
to  the  Italian  wars,  ordering  his  new  wife  back  to  Rousillon  at 
the  hour  of  his  departure,  under  the  falsehood  that  he  will 
meet  her  there  within  two  days.  Helena  obeys  him  without 
suspicion ;  but,  upon  her  arrival  at  the  palace  of  E/ousillon,  finds 
that  the  Countess,  his  mother,  has  received  from  him  the  following 
letter : — 

COUNTESS.  [Reads."]  I  have  sent  you  a  daughter-in-laio :  she  hath  re- 
covered the  king,  and  undone  me.  I  have  wedded  her,  not  bedded  her ;  and 
sworn  to  make  the  "  not "  eternal.  You  shall  hear,  I  am  run  away  ;  Jcnoiv 
it  before  the  report  come.  If  there  be  breadth  enough  in  the  world,  I icill 
hold  a  long  distance.  My  duty  to  you. 

Helena  also  finds  a  letter  awaiting  herself,  which  contains  the 
following  challenge  to  her  desires  : — 

HELENA.  \_Reads.~]  When  thou  canst  get  the  ring  upon  my  finger  which 
never  shall  come  off,  and  show  me  a  child  begotten  of  thy  body  that  I  am 
father  to,  then  call  me  husband :  but  in  such  a  then  I  write  a  never. 

Helena,  whom  Dowden  characterizes  as  the  very  embodiment  of 
will,  and  who  he  considers  would  even  be  enfeebled  by  the  disguise 
of  male  attire,  does  not  hesitate  to  accept  the  immodest  challenge, 
but  starts  promptly  after  Bertram  to  Italy,  leaving  behind  her 
a  letter  to  the  Countess,  which  again  brings  in  our  poet's  pet 
idea  of  a  convent,  and  of  Catholic  discipline : — 


"All's  Well  that  Ends  Well"  153 

_Z"  am,  St.  Jaques  pilgrim,  thither  gone  : 
Ambitious  love  hath  so  in  me  offended, 

That  bare-footed  plod  I  the  cold  ground  upon, 
With  sainted  vow  my  faults  to  have  amended. 
#  *  # 

Bless  him  at  home  in  peace,  whilst  I  from  far, 
Sis  name  with  zealous  fervour  sanctify. 

The  enterprising  lady  finds  Bertram  in  Florence,  where  the 
Duke  has  already  made  him  Master  of  Horse,  or  commander- 
in-chief  of  all  the  cavalry  in  the  field.  He  has  thus  hecome  a 
hero,  but,  under  the  influence  of  a  dissolute  favourite,  Parolles, 
he  lives,  in  his  hours  of  relaxation,  a  most  licentious  life.  Among 
the  exploits  of  this  portion  of  his  career,  he  attempts  the  seduc- 
tion of  a  young  lady  of  good  family,  named  Diana  Capulet,  in 
whose  house  Helena  has  taken  up  her  temporary  residence,  as  a 
pilgrim  to  Saint  Jaques  le  grand.  This  illicit  suit  of  Bertram's 
comes  to  the  ears  of  Helena,  who  thereupon,  explaining  to  the 
Capulet  family  who  she  is,  succeeds  in  inducing  Diana  to  make 
an  assignation,  by  which  Bertram  may  at  midnight  obtain 
access  to  her  (Diana's)  chamber,  in  order  that,  favoured  by  the 
dark,  she  (Helena)  may  take  her  place.  The  following  briefly 
tells  this  portion  of  the  story  : — 

DIANA.  Give  me  that  ring. 

BEE.      I'll  lend  it  thee,  my  dear,  but  have  no  power 

To  give  it  from  me. 

DIA.  Will  you  not,  my  lord  ? 

BEE.      It  is  an  honour  'longing  to  our  house, 

Bequeathed  down  from  many  ancestors ; 

Which  were  the  greatest  obloquy  i'  the  world 

In  me  to  lose. 
DIA.  Mine  honour's  such  a  ring  : 

My  chastity's  the  jewel  of  our  house, 

Bequeathed  down  from  many  ancestors ; 

Which  were  the  greatest  obloquy  i'  the  world 

In  me  to  lose :  Thus  your  own  proper  wisdom 

Brings  in  the  champion  honour  on  my  part, 

Against  your  vain  assault. 
BEB.  Here,  take  my  ring: 

My  house,  mine  honour,  yea,  my  life  be  thine, 

And  I'll  be  bid  by  thee. 
DIA.       When  midnight  comes,  knock  at  my  chamber  window ; 

I'll  order  take,  my  mother  shall  not  hear. 

Now  will  I  charge  you  in  the  band  of  truth, 


154    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

When  you  have  conquer'd  my  yet  maiden  bed, 

Remain  there  but  an  hour,  nor  speak  to  me : 

My  reasons  are  most  strong ;  and  you  shall  know  them 

When  hack  again  this  ring  shall  be  deliver'd : 

And  on  your  finger,  in  the  night,  I'll  put 

Another  ring ;  that,  what  in  time  proceeds, 

May  token  to  the  future  our  past  deeds. 

Adieu,  till  then ;  then,  fail  not. 

This  plot  (which  is  the  old  artifice  practised  by  Isabella  and 
Mariana  upon  Angelo  in  "Measure  for  Measure")  is  successful, 
and  Helena's  marriage  is  consummated  according  to  the  tcnour  of 
the  challenge.  Moreover,  the  whole  contract  is  fulfilled  by 
Helena,  who  not  only  secures  Bertram's  monumental  ring,  but 
succeeds,  when  he  would  have  regained  it  from  her  in  the  dark, 
in  replacing  it  by  the  royal  signet  ring  which  the  grateful  King 
had  given  her.  After  this  singular  nuptial  rite  is  consummated, 
a  scene  takes  place  (Act  IV.  Scene  3),  in  which  two  lords,  who 
have  just  arrived  from  France  to  inform  Bertram  of  Helena's 
death,  thus  deliver  themselves  : — 

1  LOED.  Sir,  his  wife,  some  two  months  since,  fled  from  his  house :  her 
pretence  is  a  pilgrimage  to  Saint  Jaques  le  grand,  which  holy  undertaking, 
with  most  austere  sanctimony,  she  accomplished ;  and,  there  residing,  the 
tenderness  of  her  nature  became  as  a  prey  to  her  grief ;  in  fine,  made  a 
groan  of  her  last  breath,  and  now  she  sings  in  heaven. 

2  LOED.  How  is  this  justified? 

1  LOED.  The  stronger  part  of  it  hy  her  own  letters,  which  makes  her 
story  true,  even  to  the  point   of  her  death :  her  death  itself,  which  could 
not  be  her  office  to  say  is  come,  was  faithfully  confirmed  by  the  rector  of 
the  place. 

2  LOED.  Hath  the  Count  all  this  intelligence  ? 

1  LOED.  Ay,  and  the  particular  confirmations,  point  from  point,  to  the  full 
arming  of  the  verity. 

2  LOED.  I  am  heartily  sorry  that  he'll  be  glad  of  this. 

That  these  gentlemen  performed  their  mission  by  delivering 
to  Bertram  the  news  of  his  wife's  death,  is  seen  in  the  following 
expression  of  his  joy  at  the  sad  event  and  self-gratulation  at  his 
supposed  success  with  Diana. 

BEE.  I  have  to-night  despatched  sixteen  businesses,  a  month's  length 
a-piece,  by  an  abstract  of  success :  I  have  congied  with  the  duke,  done  my 
adieu  with  his  nearest ;  buried  a  wife,  mourned  for  her  ;  writ  to  my  lady 
mother,  I  am  returning ;  entertained  my  convoy ;  and,  between  these  main 
parcels  of  despatch,  effected  many  nicer  deeds  ;  the  last  was  the  greatest,  but 
that  I  have  not  ended  yet. 


"  All's  Well  that  Ends  Well."  1 5 5 

He  does  not  succeed,  however,  in  getting  a  new  interview 
with  Diana,  while  Helena,  having  remained  long  enough  in 
Florence  to  assure  herself  that  her  nuptial  interview  with 
Bertram  had  been  fully  blessed  as  she  desired,  takes  Diana  and 
that  young  lady's  mother  under  her  protection,  as  witnesses  of 
what  had  been  performed,  and  with  them  sets  out  for  France 
by  the  way  of  Marseilles.  The  Italian  war  being  over,  Bertram, 
about  the  same  time,  also  starts  for  home,  and,  taking  the  direct 
route,  post  haste,  arrives  there  first.  His  calculations  are,  that 
the  renown  he  had  won  in  Italy,  along  with  the  influence  of  his 
mother,  now  that  his  wife  is  dead,  may  obtain  the  forgiveness  of 
the  King.  In  this  he  is  correct,  but,  just  as  he  is  about  being 
betrothed  by  his  majesty  to  a  new  lady,  Diana  and  her  mother, 
who  likewise  have  arrived,  are  ushered  into  the  King's  presence 
to  stop  proceedings.  Bertram  thereupon  does  not  hesitate  to 
imitate  the  detestable  perfidy  of  Angelo,  in  "  Measure  for 
Measure/'  by  denouncing  Diana  as  "  a  common  creature  of  the 
camp/'  with  whom  he  "  had  sometimes  laughed  /'  but  at  last 
Helena  comes  in  to  clear  the  whole  matter  up,  just  in  the  nick 
of  time,  by  an  unblushing  avowal  before  the  entire  court,  of  the 
active  part  which  she  has  borne  in  this  most  vulgar  performance. 
Bertram  is,  of  course,  immediately  forgiven  by  the  King,  in 
order  that  Helena  may  be  made  happy ;  while  Diana  Capulet  is 
recompensed  for  the  very  questionable  help  she  rendered  Helena 
in  the  midnight  encounter,  by  having  one  of  the  King's  young 
noblemen  assigned  to  her.  And  thus  all  ends  well,  save  the 
sorry  soiling  which  these  young  ladies  suffered  through  their 
dirty  paths.1 

Nevertheless,  such  are  the  caprices  of  Shakespearian  critics 
and  commentators,  that  Coleridge,  one  of  the  ablest  of  them, 
regards  Helena  as  "the  loveliest  of  Shakespeare's  characters/' 
For  my  part,  I  cannot  regard  her  as  anything  but  an  amorous 
Amazon,  who,  while  living  beside  Bertram  at  the  Castle  of  Rou- 
sillon,  had  kindled  from  the  mere  magnetism  of  his  physical 

1  Of  the  character  of  Bertram,  Doctor  Johnson  says,  "  I  cannot  reconcile 
my  heart  to  Bertram  ;  a, man  noble  without  generosity,  and  young  without 
truth ;  who  married  Helena  as  a  coward  and  leaves  her  as  a  profligate.  When 
she  is  dead  by  his  unkindness,  he  sneaks  home  to  a  second  marriage  ;  is  accused 
by  a  woman  whom  he  has  wronged,  defends  himself  by  falsehood,  and  is  dis- 
missed to  happiness.'' 


156    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

neighbourhood,  and  pursued  till  she  possessed  him.  She  hits 
upon  the  cure  of  the  King-  merely  as  a  medium  of  her  desires, 
and  so  frank  is  she  with  her  motive,  that  she  admits  it  to  the 
Countess : — 

My  lord  your  son  made  me  to  think  of  this, 
Else  Paris,  and  the  medicine,  and  the  king 
Had  from  the  conversation  of  my  thoughts 
Happily  been  absent. 

Elze,  like  Coleridge,  tells  us  that  Helena  is  valued  "on 
account  of  her  moral  purity,  her  honesty,  her  clear  understanding, 
her  devotion,  and  her  beauty ; "  and  he  calls  our  attention  to 
the  fact  that,  as  soon  as  the  "  masculine  activity  "  which  was 
inspired  by  her  object,  has  been  attained,  "  she  relapses  into  the 
unselfish  humility  of  a  woman,"  and  becomes  entirely  passive  to 
her  lord.  Now,  it  strikes  me,  that  just  such  a  development  of 
tranquillity  as  hers  may  be  seen  in  every  case,  when  a  desperate 
energy  has  been  completely  satisfied.  I  may  be  thought  harsh, 
after  all  that  has  been  written  of  the  delicate  loftiness  of  Helena's 
character  by  so  many  critics ;  but  I  have  a  purpose  that  must  not 
be  baffled  by  the  halo  which  surrounds  our  poet's  genius,  nor 
awed  by  the  apparent  authority  of  commentators,  who  are  mere 
devotees  around  a  shrine.  For  the  correctness  of  my  measure- 
ment of  the  morals  of  this  bold  and  unscrupulous  young  woman, 
I  refer  the  reader  especially  to  the  shocking  dialogue  in  which 
she  indulges  with  that  filthy  camp-follower,  Parolles,  in  the  very 
first  scene  where  she  presents  herself  before  the  audience. 
Though  she  knows  this  fellow  to  be  an  unprincipled  scoundrel 
and  notorious  debauchee,  she  opens  an  obscene  conversation  with 
him  in  a  corner,  and  encourages  it  so  grossly  that  every  reader  of 
the  slightest  moral  sensibility  must  shrink  at  it  with  irrepressible 
disgust.  It  cannot  be  reprinted  even  for  illustration,  and  with 
those  who  peruse  the  text,  the  conclusion  is  irresistible,  that  a 
young  woman  who  could  find  agreeable  pastime  in  such  lascivious 
allusions,  must  have  pushed  after  Bertram  011  pure  material 
impulsion,  and  contrived  his  assignation  with  Diana  under  the 
smouldering  stimulation  of  the  same  coarse  fire.  It  is  not  too 
much  to  say,  that  it  is  doubtful  if  any  domicile  in  England  or 
America  could  be  found,  where  unfortunate  females  find  a  resi- 
dence, at  which  such  language  as  Helena  uses  to  Parolles,  could 


"  A  ll's  Well  that  Ends  Well!'  1 5  7 

be  heard  at  large.  Well  might  Mrs.  Jameson,  while  erroneously 
subscribing  to  "  the  beauty  of  the  character  of  Helena,"  denounce 
the  details  which  surround  her  "  as  shocking  to  our  feelings." 
And  well,  also,  may  the  wise  Gervinius  confess,  at  the  end  of  all 
his  panegyric,  that  "  few  readers,  and  still  fewer  female  readers, 
will  believe  in  Helena's  womanly  nature,"  even  after  they  have 
read  his  explanations  and  have  found  them  indisputable. 

The  above  analysis  of  the  character  of  Helena  brings  us  again 
to  the  comprehension  of  the  difficulty  which  Shakespeare  always 
experienced  when  endeavouring  to  portray  a  lady.  As  far  as  we 
have  now  followed  him,  through  twelve  of  his  comedies,  he  has 
not  yet  been  successful  in  one  delineation.  Miranda,  who  is 
gentle,  pure  and  beautiful,  is  a  mere  filmy  and  poetic  dream. 
Isabella  is  a  spotless  and  celestial  grandeur;  the  rest  of  his  girls 
are  a  crude,  rude,  hoyden,  and  rowdy  set,  with  a  bar  sinister 
always  running  through  their  composition.  Helena  is  a  woman, 
it  is  true,  but  a  woman  of  a  stripe  which  the  courtly  Bacon 
would  hardly  have  presented  to  us  as  a  lady.  It  is  the  Countess, 
to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  our  extravagant  estimation  of  t 
purity  of  Helena's  character ;  but  had  that  kind-hearted  and 
most  excellent  old  lacly  heard  her  lewd  fencing-match  with  the 
profligate  Parolles,  she  would  not  have  expressed  such  an  opinion 
of  her  purity  again. 

Upon  the  point  of  the  religion  of  Shakespeare,  as  exhibited  in 
the  text  of  this  play,  we  have  already  had  two  illustrations,  one 
in  Helena's  letter  of  departure,  and  another  in  the  allusion  made 
by  two  lords,  to  the  holy  pilgrimage  she  made  to  the  shrine  of  St. 
Jaques  le  grand.  "We  find  still  another  in  their  reference  to 
her  subsequent  and  saint-like  death.  Bertram  has  also  the 
reverential  line, — 

Although  before  the  solemn  priest  I  have  sworn, 

and  the  widow  Capulet  says  to  Helena, — 

Come,  pilgrim,  I  will  bring  you 
Where  you  shall  host :  of  enjoined  penitents 
There's  four  or  ffve,  to  great  St.  Jaques  bound, 
Already  at  my  house. 

The  clown  gives  out  religious  symptoms  also.      In  Act  I. 
Scene  3,  he  says, — 
If  men  could  be  contented  to  be  what  they  are,  there  were  no  fear  in  mar- 


158    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

riage :  for  young  Cliarbon,  the  Puritan,  and  old  Poysam,  the  Papist,  how- 
soe'er  their  hearts  are  severed  in  religion,  their  heads  are  both  one.  They 
may  jowl  horns  together,  like  any  deer  i'  the  herd. 

Here  is  a  happy  equality  of  derision,  which  makes  the  clown 
distinctly  a  neutral  in  doctrine ;  so  that,  when  he  comes  to  say, 
afterwards,  "  Though  honesty  be  no  Puritan,  yet  it  will  do  no 
hurt ;  it  will  wear  the  surplice  of  humility  over  the  black  gown 
of  a  big  heart;"  and  with  a  still  more  ribald  tongue  utters  the 
contrasted  scandal  of — 

As  the  nun's  lip  to  the  friar's  mouth. 

The  manner  in  which  these  reflections  are  balanced,  between  both 
sects,  make  them  of  no  absolute  significance.  Nothing  is  more 
likely,  however,  than  that  this  last  expression  is  the  interpolation 
of  some  actor,  compiler,  or  small  printer ;  for,  it  is  thoroughly 
well-known  that  introductions  of  this  sort,  which  were  intended 
to  hit  simply  the  humour  of  the  hour,  were  always  numerous  in 
the  Shakespeare  text,  from  one  source  and  another.  In  the  face, 
therefore,  of  our  poet's  invariable  reverence  for  the  Roman 
Catholic  clergy — for  this  is  the  sole  instance  (save  one,  in  "  King 
John  "  which  I  have  already  discussed)  in  all  of  our  poet's  works 
where  friars  are  alluded  to  with  levity  or  reprobation.  This  motley 
quip  being  thus  off-setted  must,  •  therefore,  be  taken  for  what  it 
is  worth.  Still,  I  do  not  believe  it  to  be  Shakespeare's  line. 
The  number  of  the  Catholic  Progress.,  of  London,  for  April,  1875, 
remarks  upon  this  subject :  "  If  a  ribald  clown  finds  a  fitness 
between  '  a  nun's  lip  and  a  friar's  mouth/  it  is  no  proof  that 
Shakespeare  himself  believed  it  was  the  ordinary  thing  for  the 
religious  of  both  sexes  to  use  improper  familiarities  with  each 
other.  Things  which  suit  a  certain  character  he  is  not  particular 
about  saying,  even  though  they  do,  in  some  measure,  pamper 
vulgar  prejudices  against  the  faith/' 

As  to  the  legal  acquirements  of  Shakespeare,  so  far  as  this 
play  is  concerned,  Lord  Campbell  finds  a  striking  proof,  in  the 
incident  where  the  King  claims  to  dispose  of  the  hands  in 
marriage,  of  certain  feudal  lords,  under  what  is  known  as  the 
tenure  of  chivalry.  This  tenure  created  a  wardship  of  minors,  to 
which  class,  it  appears,  Bertram  belonged.  I  do  not  see,  how- 
ever, why  Shakespeare  could  not  have  learned  as  much  as  this 
from  Holinshed,  or  from  the  current  dramatic  works  and  his- 


"  A IV s  Well  that  Ends  Well."  159 

tories  of  his  time.  In  his  absorption  of  mind  on  the  above 
point,  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  seems  to  have  quite  overlooked  a 
speech  which  our  poet  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Parolles,  in  Act 
IV.  Scene  3. 

PAEOLLES.  Sir,  for  a  quart  d'ecu  he  will  sell  the  fee  simple  of  his  salvation : 
the  inheritance  of  it,  and  cut  the  entailment  from  all  remainders  and  a  per- 
petual succession  of  it,  in  perpetuity. 

Having,  however,  escaped  his  lordship's  legal  learning  on  this 
subject,  I  have  not  the  slightest  intention  to  inflict  the  reader 
with  my  views  upon  it. 


160    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

"TWELFTH  NIGHT;  OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL/'' 

THE  date  of  the  production  of  this  play  is  fixed,  pretty  satis- 
factorily, at  1601-2,  and  the  origin  of  the  serious  portion  of  the 
story  is  ascribed  to  a  novel,  from  the  Italian,  by  Bandello.  It  is 
one  of  Shakespeare's  most  perfect  and  charming-  comedies,  and 
seems  to  owe  its  title  to  the  fact  of  its  having  been  performed 
first,  either  on  Twelfth  Night,  or  during  the  convivial  season  of 
Shrovetide.  The  title  seems,  however,  to  have  been  so  small  a 
consideration  of  the  author,  that  he  practically  leaves  it  to  the 
reader,  or,  rather,  to  his  audience,  by  adding  to  its  first  title  that 
of,  " What  You  Will;"  or,  as  Dowden  suggests,  "Anything 
You  Like  to  Call  It."  It  contributes  numerous  illustrations  to 
the  inquiry  which  we  have  before  us,  but  more  especially  upon 
the  point  of  the  probable  religion  of  Shakespeare,  than  upon  any 
other.  Upon  this  point  its  marks  are  very  strong.  Hunter,1 
an  able  and  most  reliable  authority,  is  of  the  opinion  that  the 
main  purpose  of  this  play  was  <(  to  bring  into  disrepute  certain 
transactions  of  a  party  of  Puritans  of  the  time,  who,  in  1599, 
made  themselves  very  offensive  by  some  popular  delusions,  which 
had  taken  a  strong  hold  of  the  public  mind/-'  Hunter,  there- 
fore, believes  that  it  was  the  design  of  Shakespeare  to  satirize 
that  sect  in  the  person  of  Malvolio,  who,  says  Hunter,  is  "  a  per- 
son not  moved  to  cheerfulness  by  any  innocent  jest,  who  casts 
a  malign  look  upon  every  person  and  everything  around  him, 
and  who,  under  a  show  of  humility,  hides  a  proud  and  tyrannical 
heart.1"  "  It  was  intended/'  he  continues,  "  that  Malvolio  should 
be  of  a  formal,  grave,  and  solemn  demeanour,  and,  as  to  his 
attire,  dressed  with  a  Quaker-like  plainness,  which  would  heighten 

1  "  Life,  Studies,  and  Writings  of  Shakespeare,"  by  Joseph  Hunter,  a  Fellow 
of  the  Society  of  Antiquaries,  and  Assistant  Keeper  of  the  Public  Kecords. 
London,  1845. 


"  Twelfth  Night ;  or,  What  You  Will."       161 

the  comic  effect  when  he  afterward  decked  himself  with  all  manner 
of  finery  when  he  sought  to  please,  as  he  supposed,  his  mistress." 
Finally,  says  Hunter,  "  Though  in  other  plays  of  Shakespeare, 
we  have  indirect  and  sarcastical  remarks  on  the  opinions  or 
practices  by  which  the  Puritan  party  in  the  Reformed  Church  of 
England  were  distinguished,  it  is  in  this  play  that  we  have  his 
grand  attack  upon  them.  Here,  in  fact,  there  is  a  systematic 
design  of  holding  them  up  to  ridicule,  and  of  exposing  to  public 
odium  what  appeared  to  him  to  be  the  dark  features  in  the 
Puritan  character.  ...  In  Malvolio's  character  Shake- 
speare's intention  was  to  make  the  Puritan  odious ;  in  the 
stratagem  of  which  he  is  the  victim,  to  make  him  ridiculous.1" 

We  have  seen  for  ourselves  that  Shakespeare  distinctly  indulges 
this  design  against  the  Puritan  preacher  and  pedant  in  "  As  You 
Like  It,"  while,  in  direct  contrast,  he  expresses  the  greatest 
respect  and  reverence  for  Catholic  clergymen  and  'the  Catholic 
faith.  The  same  contrasted  expression  will  be  found  in  the  play 
before  us.  The  first  line  we  have  exhibiting  this  fact,  is  an 
allusion,  by  one  of  the  courtiers  of  the  love-sick  Duke,  to  Olivia, 
who,  still  mourning  at  the  end  of  several  years  for  her  only 
brother's  death,  has  -refused  to  receive  a  love-message  from  his 
Grace : — 

VALENTINE.  So  please  my  Lord,  I  might  not  be  admitted, 
But  from  her  handmaid  do  return  this  answer : 
The  element  itself,  till  seven  years'  heat, 
Shall  not  behold  her  face  at  ample  view ; 
But,  like  a  cloistress,  she  will  veiled  walk  : 
*  *  all  this  to  season, 

A  brother's  dead  love. 

Again,  in  Act  II.  Scene  3,  we  have  the  following  :— 

SIB  TOBY  BELCH,  MARIA,  and  SIB  ANDBEW. 

SIB  To.  Possess  us,  possess  us ;  tell  us  something  of  him. 

MAB.  Marry,  sir,  sometimes  he  is  a  kind  of  Puritan. 

SIB  AND.  0,  if  I  thought  that,  I'd  beat  him  like  a  dog. 

SIB  To.  What,  for  being  a  Puritan  ?     Thy  exquisite  reason;  dear  knight  ? 

SIB  AND.  I  have  no  exquisite  reason  fort,  but  I  have  reason  good 
enough. 

MAE.  The  devil  a  Puritan  that  he  is,  or  anything  constantly  but  a  tirne- 
pleaser  ;  an  affection'd  ass. 

In  Act  IV.  Scene  2,  we  have  the  following :— 


1 62  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

SIB  TOBY  BELCH,  MAEIA,  and  CLOWN  as  SIE  TOPAS  the  Parson,  with 
MALVOLIO  locked  up  in  an  adjoining  dark  room. 

SIR  To.  Jove  bless  thee,  master  parson. 

CLOWN  (as  Sir  T.)  Bonos  dies,  Sir  Toby ;  for,  as  the  old  hermit  of  Prague, 
that  never  saw  pen  and  ink,  very  wittily  said  to  a  niece  of  King  Gorboduc, 
That,  that  is,  is  ;  so  I,  being  master  parson,  am  master  parson.  For  what  is 
that,  but  that  ?  and  is,  but  is  ? 

SIE  To.  To  him,  Sir  Topas. 

CLOWN  (as  Sir  T.)  What,  ho,  I  say — peace  in  this  prison ! 

SIE  To.  The  knave  counterfeits  well :  a  good  knave. 

MAL.  (in  an  inner  chamber)).     Who  calls  there  ? 

CLOWN.  Sir  Topas,  the  curate,  who  comes  to  visit  Malvolio,  the  lunatic. 

MAL.  Sir  Topas,  Sir  Topas,  good  Sir  Topas,  go  to  my  lady. 

CLOWN.  Out,  hyperbolical  fiend  !  how  vexest  thou  this  man !  talkest  thou 
nothing  but  of  ladies  ? 

SIE  To.  Well  said,  master  parson. 

MAL.  Sir  Topas,  never  was  man  thus  wronged ;  good  Sir  Topas,  do  not 
think  I  am  mad ;  they  have  laid  me  here  in  hideous  darkness. 

CLOWN.  Fye,  thou  dishonest  Sathan !  I  call  thee  by  the  most  modest 
terms ;  for  I  am  one  of  those  gentle  ones  that  will  use  the  devil  himself  with 
courtesy.  Say'st  thou  that  house  is  dark  ? 

MAL.  As  hell,  Sir  Topas. 

Immediately  succeeding  this,  and  in  the  very  next  scene,  in 
respectful  contrast  with  the  Puritan  paces  of  the  mock  Sir  Topas, 
Olivia,  accompanied  by  a  priest,  enters  upon  a  scene  where  her 
lover,  Sebastian,  is  soliloquising  upon  some  conjugal  entertain- 
ment she  had  extended  to  him  the  night  before : — 

Enter  OLIVIA  and  a  Priest. 

OLI.   Blame  not  this  haste  of  mine :  If  you  mean  well, 

Now  go  with  me,  and  with  this  holy  man, 

Into  the  chantry  by :  there,  before  him, 

And  underneath  that  consecrated  roof, 

Plight  me  the  full  assurance  of  your  faith ; 

That  my  most  jealous  and  too  doubtful  soul 

May  live  at  peace.     He  shall  conceal  it, 

Whiles  you  are  willing  it  shall  come  to  note  ; 

What  time  we  will  our  celebration  keep 

According  to  my  birth.  What  do  you  say  ? 
SEB.  Til  follow  this  good  man,  and  go  with  you ; 

And,  having  sworn  truth,  ever  will  be  true. 
OLI.  Then  lead  the  way,  good  father; — And  heavens  so  shine, 

That  they  may  fairly  note  this  act  of  mine  ! 

Sebastian  and  Olivia  are  then  duly  married,  as  it  was  time 
hey  should  be ;  but,  being  temporarily  separated  in  a  succeeding 


"  Twelfth  Night;  or,  What  ¥021,  Will."        j63 

scene,  and  Olivia  falling  in  with  Viola  the  sister  of  Sebastian 
while   the   latter   was  still  in  male  attire,  again   mistakes  the 
latter  for  the  brother.      Viola,  of  course,  denies  the  conjugal 
imputation,  whereupon,  losing  her  patience,  Olivia  sends  for  the 
priest  who  had  just  married  them,  with — 

Call  forth  the  holy  father. 

Enter  Attendant  and  Priest. 

O,  welcome,  father ! 

Father,  I  charge  thee,  by  thy  reverence, 
Here  to  unfold  (though  lately  we  intended 
To  keep  in  darkness,  what  occasion  now 
Reveals  before  'tis  ripe)  what  thou  dost  know, 
Hath  newly  past  between  this  youth  and  me. 
PRIEST.      A  contract  of  eternal  bond  of  love, 

Confirm  d  by  mutual  joinder  of  your  hands, 

Attested  by  the  holy  close  of  lips, 

Strengthen  d  by  inter  changement  of  your  rings  ; 

And  all  the  ceremony  of  this  compact 

Seal'd  in  my  function,  by  my  testimony  : 

Since  when,  my  watch  hath  told  me,  toward  my  grave 

I  have  travell'd  but  two  hours. 

This  is  an  exact  and  technical  description  of  a  Catholic  mar- 
riage, which  ceremony,  unlike  the  Protestant  ritual,  is  regarded 
as  a  sacrament  by  the  Romish  Church.  The  same  forms  are 
observable  in  the  cases  of  Benedick  and  Beatrice,  and  are  also 
alluded  to  in  Romeo  and  Juliet.  The  precision  with  which  the 
terms  of  the  contract  are  above  recited,  indicate  pretty  clearly 
that  Shakespeare  was  married  under  those  religious  forms 
himself. 

There  is  one  circumstance  which  I  cannot  refrain  from  noticing 
before  disposing  of  this  play,  though  it  is  rather  out  of  the  line 
of  my  inquiry.  I  allude  to  the  compliment  which  Shakespeare 
more  than  once  pays  to  grey  eyes,  which,  during  the  whole  of 
the  Elizabethan  period,  were  regarded  as  a  distinguishing  mark 
of  female  beauty ;  because,  of  course,  the  eyes  of  Queen  Elizabeth 
were  grey.  Shakespeare  first  confers  these  eyes  upon  Julia  in  the 
"Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona;'"  he  next  gives  them  to  Thisbe,  by 
a  hint  in  "  Romeo  and  Juliet ;  "  but  he  lodges  them  squarely, 
and  with  distinct  significance  upon  Olivia,  his  paragon  of  beauty. 
In  her  own  inventory  of  her  charms,  as  playfully  given  to  Viola, 
Olivia  says, — 


164  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

11 1  will  give  out  divers  schedules  of  my  beauty.  It  shall  be  inventoried ; 
and  every  particle  and  utensil  labelled  to  iny  will — as,  item,  two  lips  indif- 
ferent red ;  item,  two  grey  eyes,  with  lids  to  them ;  item,  one  neck,  one  chin, 
and  so  forth.'' 

The  inventory  being  thus  summed  up,  the  following  exquisite 
lines  occur  : — 

VIOLA.  'Tis  beauty  truly  blent,  whose  red  and  white 

Nature's  own  sweet  and  cunning  hand  laid  on : 
Lady,  you  are  the  cruell'st  she  alive, 
If  you  will  lead  these  graces  to  the  grave, 
And  leave  the  world  no  copy. 

Act  I.  Scene  5. 

I  have  but  to  add  that  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell  finds 
no  evidences  of  the  legal  acquirements  of  Shakespeare  in 
"Twelfth  Night,  or  What  You  Will.-" 


This  play  is  one  of  the  most  finished  of  Shakespeare's  pieces. 
It  is  pretty  well  ascertained  that  it  was  written  as  late  as  1610, 
six  years  before  our  poet's  death,  and  was  played  in  the  following 
year.  It  was  not  published,  however,  until  the  folio  of  1623, 
which  had  so  many  of  his  dramas  for  the  first  time  set  <e  in  the 
custody  of  type."  We  have  the  old  story  again  about  the  plot, 
which,  it  is  agreed,  on  all  sides,  was  taken  from  the  "  Pleasant 
History  of  Dorastus  and  Fawina,"  a  novel,  published  in  1588  by 
Thomas  Green,  and  subsequently  named  "  Pandosto."  Shakespeare 
has  altered  the  names  of  the  characters ;  he  has  also  added  the 
parts  of  Antigonus,  Paulina,  and  Autolycus,  and  suppressed  some 
circumstances  in  the  original  story.  In  other  respects,  he  has 
adhered  closely  to  the  novel.  The  errors  of  representing  Bohemia 
as  a  maritime  country,  with  a  sea-coast,  and  Delphos  as  an  island, 
are  not,  however,  "  attributable  to  Shakespeare,"  says  Harness, 
"  but  to  the  original  from  which  he  copied."  Such  geographical 
blunders  could  hardly  have  proceeded  from  Lord  Bacon,  who  was 
not  only  too  learned  a  scholar,  but  had  been  too  much  of  a 
traveller  to  be  their  victim. 

The  story  of  "  The  Winter's  Tale  "  is  one  of  jealousy  ;  a 
jealousy  deeper,  more  intense,  more  unreasoning,  more  capricious, 
and,  if  possible,  more  baseless  than  the  madness  of  "Othello;" 


"  The  Winters  Tale."  165 

and  no  one  can  read  the  character  of  Leontes  along  with  that  of 
Othello,  without  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  our  poet's  own 
bosom,  under  the  deceptions  of  some  London  traitress,  had  been 
the  boiling  fountain  of  the  lines — 

That  cuckold  lives  in  bliss, 
Who,  certain  of  his  fate,  loves  not  his  wronger, 
But  0,  what  damned  minutes  tells  he  o'er 
Who  dotes  yet  doubts,  suspects  yet  strongly  loves ! 

The  first  expressions  in  this  play  bearing  upon  our  points  are 
those  of  Leontes  to  Camillo,  in  the  second  scene  of  the  first  act, 
where  the  former,  just  imbued  with  suspicions  against  Hermione, 
is  beginning  to  meditate  the  murder  of  Polixenes.  These  lines 
themselves  may  be  said  to  emit  a  dim  religious  light : — 

I  have  trusted  thee,  Camillo, 
With  all  the  nearest  things  to  my  heart,  as  well 
My  chamber  councils ;  wherein,  priest-like,  thou 
Hast  cleansed  my  bosom  /  I  from  thee  departed, 
Thy  penitent  reform  d. 

The  next  instance  is  an  allusion  by  the  clown  to  the  company 
which  are  coming  to  grace  Perdita's  rural  party.  After  conning 
them  over,  he  says, — 

There  is  but  one  Puritan  among  them,  and  he  sings  psalms  to  hornpipes. 

Farther  on,  Perdita's  supposed  father,  an  old  shepherd,  having 
been  threatened  by  Polixenes  with  death,  thus  mourns  his 
fate  :— 

But  now 

Some  hangman  must  put  on  my  shroud,  and  lay  me 
Where  no  priest  shovels  in  dust. 

Our  next  illustration  bears  upon  Shakespeare's  adoration  of 
princes;  and  his  contrasted  estimation  of  ordinary  people  : — 

CAMILLO.  To  do  this  deed, 

Promotion  follows.     If  I  could  find  example 
Of  thousands  that  had  struck  anointed  Ungs 
And  flourish'd  after,  I'd  not  do  it :  but  since 
Nor  brass,  nor  stone,  nor  parchment,  bears  not  one, 
Let  villany  itself  forswear't. 

"  Upon  this  passage/'  says  Hunter,  «  Sir  William  Blackstone 

founded  an  argument  to  prove  that  < The  Winter's  Tale'  <  could 

not  have  been  written  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  inasmuch  as  she 

was  one  who  had  struck,  not  an  anointed  king,  indeed,  but  an 

12 


1 66  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

anointed  queen,  in  the  person  of  the  Queen  of  Scots.'  '•  Let  me 
take  this  occasion  to  say  that,  if  this  argument  of  Blackstone's 
be  good  to  exhibit  the  repugnance  of  Elizabeth,,  how  much 
stronger  must  the  allusion  have  operated  as  a  repulsion  to  Bacon 
(had  he  been  the  writer  of  this  play),  who  wrung  from  Elizabeth 
her  reluctant  consent  to  Mary's  execution. 

Farther  on,  in  Act  IV.,  Polixenes  having  discovered  that  his 
son,  Prince  Florizel,  is  engaged  in  marriage  to  Perdita,  the  lost 
daughter  of  Leontes  (yet  supposed  to  be  a  shepherdess)  thus 
berates  him  for  the  baseness  of  his  yearnings  : — 

"  Mark  your  divorce,  young  sir, 
Whom  son  I  dare  not  call ;  thou  art  too  base 
To  be  acknowledged.     Thou,  a  sceptre's  heir, 
That  thus  affect'st  a  sheep-hook !        * 

*  *  And  thou,  fresh  piece 

Of  excellent  witchcraft,  who,  of  force,  must  know 
The  royal  fool  thou  cop'st  with, 

*  *  * 

I'll  have  thy  beauty  scratch'd  with  briers,  and  made 
More  homely  than  thy  state. 

*  *  If  ever,  henceforth,  thou 
These  rural  latches  to  his  entrance  open, 

Or  hoop  his  body  more  with  thy  embraces, 
I  will  devise  a  death  as  cruel  for  thee 
As  thou  art  tender  to  V 

• 

It  being  discovered  soon  after,  however,  that  Perdita  is  a 
King's  daughter,  we  at  once  hear  of — 

"The  majesty  of  the  creature,  in  resemblance  of  the  mother;  the 
affection  of  nobleness,  which  nature  shows  above  her  breeding;  and 
many  other  evidences  proclaim  her,  with  all  certainty,  to  be  the  king's 
daughter." 

In  contrast  to  the  above  strain  I  pass  to  the  remark  of  Autoly- 
cus,  who  says  to  the  shepherd  and  clown,  when  they  are  relating 
their  original  discovery  of  the  babe  Perdita, — 

Let  me  have  no  lying ;  it  becomes  none  but  tradesmen. 

I  may  add,  at  this  point,  that  our  poet  makes  one  of  the 
gentlemen  at  the  court  of  Polixenes  speak  of  Julio  Romano,  the 
celebrated  Italian  painter,  (who  was  the  Raphael  of  Shake- 
speare's day,)  as  a  sculptor — a  mistake  which  the  travelled  and 
scholarly  Sir  Francis  Bacon  could  hardly  have  fallen  into. 

Perdita,  every  one  will  be  happy  to  recognize  as  the  purest  and 


"  The  Winter's  Tale."  l6? 

sweetest  female  character,  who,  at  the  same  time,  partakes  of  the 
gentle,  genial  qualities  of  breathing  woman,  which  our  poet 
has  yet  drawn.  Her  language  is  Exquisitely  beautiful,  and 
effuses  from  her  like  the  breath  of  an  angel,  filled  at  the  same 
time  with  the  wholesome  warmth  of  a  woman.  She  never  ceases 
to  be  a  shepherdess,  while  still  a  shepherdess;  but,  though  she 
seems  to  be  dipped  in  fresh  milk  and  to  smell  of  the  meadow, 
the  inimitable  grace  imparted  by  a  perfect  nature  makes  her 
move  among  her  companions  like  a  sylvan  goddess.  So 
thoroughly  imbued  is  she  with  the  spirit  of  modesty  that, 
though  given  to  the  culture  of  all  sorts  of  flowers,  she  refuses  to 
illegitimately  graft 

A  gentler  scion  to  the  wildest  stock, 

because  this  process  shocks  her  sense  of  propriety.  Polixenes 
reasons  to  her  in  favour  of  grafting  contrasted  plants  as 

An  art 

Which  does  mend  nature, — change  it  rather :  but 
The  art  itself  is  nature. 

PEEDITA.       So  it  is. 

POLIXENES.  Then  make  your  garden  rich  in  gilliflowers, 
And  do  not  call  them  bastards. 

PEIIDITA.  I'll  not  put 

The  dibble  in  earth  to  set  one  slip  of  them : 
No  more  than,  were  I  painted,  I  would  wish 
This  youth  should  say,  'twere  well. 

That  there  is  no  prudery  in  this,  but  only  a  natural  delicacy  of 
soul,  we  are  warranted  in  saying,  from  the  involuntary  caution 
which  she  gives  her  foster-brother,  the  clown,  when  he  announces 
that  he  is  about  to  bring  in  to  her  feast,  with  his  pedlar's  pack, 
that  ribald  rogue  and  pickpocket  Autolycus,  to  sell  his  wares  and 
at  the  same  time  to  sing  for  the  party  : — 

Forewarn  him  that  he  use  no  scurrilous  words  in 's  tunes. 

With  this  we  kiss  Perdita,  and  reluctantly  take  leave  of  her ; 
pausing  only  upon  the  previous  matter  to  remark,  that  the  one 
person  of  the  dramatis  persona  of  "  The  Winter's  Tale"  who,  al| 
the  while,  meets  with  the  most  unvarying  prosperity,  even  in  the 
perpetration  of  his  crimes,  to  say  nothing  of  the  tranquil  enjoy- 
ment of  their  profits,  is  the  pickpocket,  liar,  and  profligate 
Autolycus  !  Truly,  this  again  revives  our  suspicions  that  Shake- 


1 68  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

speare,  though  he  possibly  had  a  good  heart,  was  but  lightly 
burdened  with  moral  principle  or  conscience. 

On  the  subject  of  the  legal  acquirements  of  Shakespeare,  as 
exhibited  in  "  The  Winter's  Tale/'  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell 
says, — 

"  There  is  an  allusion  in  Act  I.  Scene  2,  to  a  piece  of  English 
law  procedure,  which,  although  it  might  have  been  enforced  till 
very  recently,  could  hardly  be  known  to  any  except  lawyers,  or 
those  who  had  themselves  actually  been  in  prison  on  a  criminal 
charge, — that,  whether  guilty  or  innocent,  the  prisoner  was 
liable  to  pay  a  fee  on  his  liberation.  Hermione,  trying  to 
persuade  Polixenes,  King  of  Bohemia,  to  prolong  his  stay  at  the 
court  of  Leontes,  in  Sicily,  says  to  him, — 

You  put  me  off  with  limber  vows  ;  but  I, 

Though  you  would  seek  t'  unsphere  the  stars  with  oaths, 

Should  yet  say,  "  Sir,  no  going." 

Force  me  to  keep  you  as  a  prisoner, 

Not  like  a  guest ;  so  you  shall  pay  your  fees 

When  you  depart,  and  save  your  thanks. 

But  in  this  I  do  not  agree  with  his  lordship.  Hermione,  in 
her  use  of  the  vfQi&fees,  doubtless  alluded  to  the  habitual  largess 
distributed  by  parting  guests,  and  especially  by  a  king.  It  is 
absurd  to  suppose  that  she  knew  anything  about  jail  fees.  Lord 
Campbell  continues  : — 

' '  I  remember  when  the  Clerk  of  Assize  and  the  Clerk  of  the , 
Peace  were  entitled  to  exact  their  fee  from  all  acquitted  prisoners, 
and  were  supposed  in  strictness  to  have  a  lien  on  their  persons 
for  it.  I  believe  there  is  now  no  tribunal  in  England  where  the 
practice  remains,  excepting  the  two  Houses  of  Parliament ;  but 
the  Lord  Chancellor  and  ^the  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons 
still  say  to  prisoners  about  to  be  liberated  from  the  custody  of 
the  Black  Bod  or  the  S@rjeant-at-Arms,  fYou  are  discharged, 
paying  your  fees' 

"  When  the  trial  of  Queen  Hermione,  for  high  treason,  comes 
off,  in  Act  III.  Scene  2^  although  the  indictment  is  not 
altogether  according  to  English  legal  form,  and  might  be  held 
insufficient  on  a  writ  of  error,  we  lawyers  cannot  but  wonder  at 
seeing  it  so  near  perfection  in  charging  the  treason,  and  alleging 
the  overt  act  committed  by  her  f  contrary  to  the  faith  and 
allegiance  of  a  true  subject/ 


"  The  Winter's  Tale."  169 

"It  is  likewise  remarkable  that  Cleomenes  and  Dion,  the 
messengers  who  brought  back  the  response  from  the  oracle  of 
Delphi,  to  be  given  in  evidence,  are  sworn  to  the  genuineness  of 
the  document  they  produce  almost  in  the  very  words  now  used 
by  the  Lord  Chancellor,  when  an  officer  presents  at  the  bar  of 
the  House  of  Lords  the  copy  of  a  record  of  a  court  of  justice  : 

You  here  shall  swear          *          * 

That  you,  Cleomenes  and  Dion,  have 

Been  both  at  Delphos ;  and  from  thence  have  brought 

The  seal'd-up  oracle,  by  the  hand  delivered 

Of  great  Apollo's  priest ;  and  that  since  then 

You  have  not  dared  to  break  the  holy  seal, 

Nor  read  the  secrets  in  V 

To  me,  these  evidences  of  Shakespeare's  legal  attainments, 
though  endorsed  as  such  by  Lord  Campbell,  appear  to  be  very 
light  and  commonplace,  and  such  only,  as  any  man  of  extensive 
reading  and  authorship  could  hardly  help  acquiring,  without 
having  even  served  as  a  scrivener  or  clerk  in  an  attorney's  office. 
The  paying  of  jail-fees  by  a  discharged  culprit,  or  the  usual  veri- 
fication of  a  paper,  are  such  obvious  details  as  would  have  forced 
themselves  upon  the  observation  of  any  idler  in  a  dull  country- 
town  like  Stratford,  particularly  if  he  were  in  the  habit,  either  of 
attending  at  the  courts  or  visiting  the  taverns;  and  it,  therefore, 
was  not  necessary  that  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell  should 
have  gone  to  the  extent  of  reminding  us  of  Shakespeare's  im- 
prisonment for  deer-stealing,  to  account  for  his  familiarity  with 
the  practice  of  prison-fees.  What  shall  we  say,  however,  of  the 
legal  perception  and  acumen  of  a  great  lawyer  like  Lord  Chief 
Justice  Campbell,  who  will  wring  a  theory  of  abstruse  learning 
from  these  surface  details,  and  overlook  such  an  incident  as 
Paulina's  rescuing  the  new-born  princess  out  of  prison,  against 
every  principle  of  law,  on  the  flimsy  pretext  that  the  unborn 
infant,  not  having  been  condemned  along  with  the  queen,  was  not 
amenable  to  any  process  of  restraint  that  could  be  lodged  against 
it  in  the  jailor's  hands.  Let  us  observe  the  circumstances. 

The  Queen,  Hermione,  under  the  effects  of  Leontes'  jealousy, 
had  been  thrown  into  prison,  precedent  to  trial,  and,  being  in  an 
advanced  state  of  pregnancy,  is  delivered  of  a  child.  Paulina, 
a  distinguished  lady  of  the  court,  goes  to  see  her,  but  is 
informed  by  the  keeper  that  he  is  under  express  orders  that 


170  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

no  person  whatever  shall  be  allowed  to  speak  to  her  majesty, 
except  in  his  presence.  Paulina  then  asks  to  see  Emilia,  one  of 
the  Queen's  waiting- women,  who,  being  brought  out,  is  thus 
addressed  by  her  : — 

Dear  gentlewoman,  how  fares  our  gracious  lady  ? 
EMIL.  As  well  as  one  so  great,  and  so  forlorn, 

May  hold  together :  on  her  frights,  and  griefs 

(Which  never  tender  lady  hath  borne  greater), 

She  is,  something  before  her  time,  deliver'd. 
PAUL.  A  boy? 
EMIL.  A  daughter,  and  a  goodly  babe, 

Lusty,  and  like  to  live  ;  the  queen  receives 

Much  comfort  in 't :  says  my  poor  prisoner, 

1  am  innocent  as  you. 

Paulina  then  asks  that  the  infant  may  be  brought  to  her,  but 
the  keeper  interposes': — 

KEEP.  Madam,  if 't  please  the  Queen  to  send  the  babe, 

I  know  not  what  I  shall  incur,  to  pass  it, 

Having  no  warrant. 
PAUL.  You  need  not  fear  it,  sir  : 

The  child  was  prisoner  to  the  womb ;  and  is, 

By  law  and  process  of  great  nature,  thence 

Free'd  and  enfranchised  :  not  a  party  to 

The  anger  of  the  King  ;  nor  guilty  of, 

If  any  be,  the  trespass  of  the  Queen. 
KEEP.  I  do  believe  it. 
PAUL.  Do  not  you  fear :  upon 

Mine  honour,  I  will  stand  'twixt  you  and  danger. 

Here  is  a  fine  doctrine,  to  prevail  in  an  almost  absolute 
monarchy.  This  most  successful  of  all  female  lawyers,  Paulina, 
claims  that  the  new-born  babe  of  the  imprisoned  Queen  has 
such  an  inherent  right  to  personal  liberty  that  it  may  demand, 
through  its  next  friend,  that  it  shall  be  passed  out  of  prison, 
not  for  the  purposes  of  nurture,  but  purely  on  its  abstract 
personal  right  of  liberty;  and  that  babe,  too,  a  princess,  and 
subject,  consequently,  not  only  to  special  laws  of  the  realm 
governing  the  title  to  the  crown,  but  also  to  the  peculiar 
custody  and  authority  of  the  King,  who  is,  at  the  same  time,  its 
father.  And  yet  Lord  Campbell,  who  occupies  his  attention 
with  forms  of  verification  and  jail-fees,  does  not  perceive  this 
monstrous  violation  of  the  spirit,  the  science,  and  the  philosophy 
of  law,  as  well  as  of  common  sense. 


The  Historical  Plays.  x  7  j 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE   HISTORICAL   PLAYS. 

"  THE  WINTER'S  TALE  "  finishes  the  Comedies,  which,  as  we  have 
seen,  are  fourteen  in  number.  The  next  group  is  denominated 
Histories,  of  which  there  are  ten.  These  are  succeeded  by  thirteen 
Tragedies;  making  a  total  for  the  Shakesperian  dramas,  of  thirty- 
seven. 

In  taking  leave  of  the  comedies,  I  may  remark  that,  while  we 
find  a  vast  amount  of  evidence  in  them,  that  the  writer  was  deeply 
imbued  with  the  doctrines  and  sentiments  of  the  Church  of 
Rome,  we  find  nothing  favouring  the  theory  of  his  Protestantism. 
Indeed,  all  of  his  religious  utterances  seem  to  be  the  spontaneous 
breathings  of  a  Catholic  soul,  and  our  entire  scrutiny  of  this 
series  of  the  plays  has  produced  but  three  indifferent  expressions 
to  raise  even  a  momentary  question  to  the  contrary. 

Nor  have  we  found,  in  going  through  these  fourteen  comedies, 
one  generous  aspiration  in  favour  of  popular  liberty,  always  so 
hard  for  genius  to  repress ;  or  one  expression  of  sympathy  with 
the  sufferings  of  the  poor;  nay,  hardly  one  worthy  sentiment 
accorded  to  a  character  in  humble  life.  And  here  it  may  be 
again  observed,  that  aristocratic  tendencies  are  more  especially 
fostered  by  the  Romish  Church  than  by  any  other.  Finally, 
we  find  no  support,  down  to  this  point,  for  the  theory  that 
Sir  Francis  Bacon  was  the  author  of  the  Shakespearian  plays. 
On  the  contrary,  it  seems  impossible  that  a  man  of  Lord  Bacon's 
gravity  and  learning  could  have  achieved  the  facility  in  vulgar 
tavern  wit,  with  which  these  plays  abound; — could  ever  have 
laved  his  mind,  as  it  were,  in  the  sorry  jests,  the  puerile  equi- 
voques, and  the  paltry  puns  (that  wretched  wit  of  sound)  which 
form  so  large  a  portion  of  the  conversation  of  Stephano  and 
Trinculo  in  the  play  of  "  The  Tempest ;"  which  characterize  the 
colloquy  of  Speed  and  Launce  in  the  "  Two  Gentlemen  of 


1 72  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Verona  ;"  of  Sir  Hugh,  of  Doctor  Caius,  and  of  Falstaff  and  his 
vagabond  retainers  in  "The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor."  Of 
Lucio  and  the  Clown  in  "Measure  for  Measure;"  of  the  two 
Dromios  in  "  The  Comedy  of  Errors ;"  of  Dogberry  and  Verges, 
and  of  a  deal  of  the  smart  repartee  between  Benedick  and 
Beatrice  in  "  Much  ado  about  Nothing."  Of  indeed,  the 
greater  part  of  what  is  said  in  "  Love's  Labour's  Lost ;"  of 
the  jargon  of  Bottom  and  his  mates  in  "  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream ;"  of  much  of  the  clack  of  the  two  Gobbos  in  "  The 
Merchant  of  Venice  ;"  of  the  talk  of  Touchstone,  of  Rosalind 
and  the  exiled  courtiers,  in  "  As  You  Like  It  ;"  also  of  the 
lewd  sparring  of  Katharine  and  Petruchio,  in  "The  Taming 
of  the  Shrew."  And,  most  notably  and  deplorably,  the  obscenity 
indulged  in  by  Helena  and  the  poltroon  Parolles,  in  "  All's  Well 
that  Ends  Well" 

It  is  much  more  difficult  to  believe,  therefore,  that  an  austere 
philosopher,  like  Bacon,  could  have  familiarized  himself  with  such 
pitiful  stuff  as  this,  than  it  is  to  credit  William  Shakespeare,  the 
play-actor,  for  his  smattering  of  law,  his  superficial  knowledge  of 
medicine,  and  his  apparent  proficiency  in  the  rhetoric  of  courts. 
Of  course,  those  who  credit  Shakespeare  for  the  correctness  of  his 
court  phraseology  could  hardly  have  been  at  court  themselves. 
And  yet,  of  this  class  are  the  critics  who  pretend  to  judge  familiarly 
of  kings ;  and  who,  while  thus  giving  away  the  argument,  stultify 
themselves  still  farther,  by  the  assumption,  that  Shakespeare 
merely  comes  up  to  the  level  of  mere  court  nothings,  even  when  his 
superb  language  is  at  its  best.  Equally  absurd  seems  to  me  to 
be  the  theory  of  that  other  class  of  critics,  composed  mostly  of 
mere  scholars,  who  will  not  tolerate  the  idea  that  any  one  can 
have  learning,  who  is  not  an  utter  bookworm  like  themselves. 
These  are  the  pundits  who  flatly  deny  all  scholarship,  and  even 
all  foreign  languages,  to  Shakespeare,  simply  because  they  cannot 
find  that  he  acquired  these  accomplishments  through  a  regular 
course  at  school.  These  savans,  while  in  one  breath  they  claim 
Shakespeare  to  be  a  miracle  of  human  genius,  in  the  next  deny 
to  him  the  most  ordinary  gifts  of  observation  and  of  memory; 
which  faculties,  working  silently  together,  always  result  in  that 
supervening  climax  of  intelligence  which  the  ignorant  call  intui- 
tion. This  class  of  critics  cannot  account  for  the  scraps  of  Latin, 
French,  Spanish,  and  Italian  which  are  scattered  through  the 


The  Historical  Plays.  \  73 

comedies ;  as  if  the  quick,  lambent,  and  retentive  mental  faculties 

of  Shakespeare — the  outranking-  poetic  genius  of  the   world 

are  to  be  measured  by  the  qualities  of  ordinary  men.  It  is  com- 
mentators of  this  class  who,  weakened  by  too  much  attention  to 
details,  lose  all  vigorous  range  of  observation,  and  consequently 
become  incapable  of  comprehending  such  miracles  of  acquisition, 
so  far  as  the  acquirement  of  foreign  languages  is  concerned,  as 
are  shown  by  Elihu  Burritt  and  William  Shakespeare.  The  five 
or  six  languages,  which  Shakespeare  seems  to  have  partially 
picked  up,  during  the  eight  years  of  comparative  idleness  he 
passed  at  Stratford  was,  after  all,  a  far  inferior  exploit  to 
the  acquisition  of  the  forty  or  fifty  languages  and  tongues  by 
Elihu  Burritt  of  America.  The  signs  and  features  of  a  foreign 
language,  under  the  lambent  ecstasy  of  intellects  like  these,  re- 
semble the  vivid  function  of  the  photographic  plate,  which  in  an 
instant  receives  and  fixes  images  that  are  to  endure  for  ever. 

Moreover,  every  one  knows,  who  has  ever  mastered  even  the 
rudiments  of  a  foreign  language,  that  nothing  is  easier  than  to 
scan,  offhand,  all  the  leading  features  of  a  story  from  a  foreign 
page,  so  as  to  furnish,  as  did  the  Italian  school  of  romance  to 
our  poet,  all  the  hints,  if  not  all  the  incidents,  necessary  for 
a  play.  If  these  incidents  were  not  transcribed  exact,  so  much 
the  more  creditable  for  our  author's  invention ;  and  if  exact  sen- 
tences from  the  original  were  at  any  time  desirable,  phrase-books 
might  have  been  resorted  to,  as  books  of  attorneys'  practice 
were  doubtless  pressed  into  his  rapid  service  for  his  terms  of 
law.  The  trouble  with  the  commentators  has  therefore  too  often 
been,  that  they  were  either  awed  from  a  plain  estimation  of  their 
idol  by  too  rapt  an  adoration  of  him ;  or,  bewildered  by  their 
own  scholarship,  they  have  undervalued  his  practical  attain- 
ments, and  erroneously  set  him  down  as  an  unlettered  man. 
And,  after  all,  what  are  the  most  of  these  old  scholars  and  book- 
worms in  the  clever  world  of  to-day?  Steam,  electricity,  the 
revelations  by  Science  of  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  have  annihi- 
lated whole  libraries  of  philosophic  dreams,  and  placed  more  true 
knowledge  in  the  hands  of  unpretending  merchants  and  mere 
boys,  than  dwelt  behind  the  beards  of  Zoroaster  or  Confucius,  or 
ever  belonged  to  the  old  alchemists,  who  were  supposed  to  have 
learning  and  science  in  valet-like  attendance,  as  familiar  spirits. 
Nay,  young  men  who  now  get  the  bulk  of  their  knowledge  from 


174  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

the  newspapers,  can  afford  almost  to  smile  at  the  truisms  of  Lord 
Bacon,  and  wonder  how  he  obtained  his  vast  renown  by  uttering 
such  obvious  facts  as  formed  the  staple  of  his  essays.  But  while 
Bacon  has  thus  receded  from  the  estimation  of  his  period,  no  one 
has  succeeded  in  approaching,  much  less  transcending,  the  con- 
ceptions of  the  mind  of  William  Shakespeare  !  The  one  (the 
Philosopher)  laboured  through  the  tedious  paths  of  learning  to 
approximate  towards  the  truth ;  the  Poet  caught  his  conceptions 
direct  from  the  creative  Throne,  and  transmitted  them  to  man- 
kind through  the  unerring  medium  of  the  soul.  Shakespeare  is, 
therefore,  always  true  and  fresh  and  new.  Nothing  can  "  stale 
his  infinite  variety ;"  and  as  the  generations  roll  before  him,  each 
after  each,  echoes  the  accord, — 

"  That  he  was  not  of  an  age,  but  for  all  time." 

I  trust  I  may  not  be  considered  as  speaking  slightingly  of 
Bacon,  in  thus  contrasting  his  qualities  with  those  of  Shake- 
speare. Lord  Bacon,  for  his  period,  was  as  much  the  pioneer  of 
thought  as  Shakespeare  was  the  pioneer  of  soul ;  and  the  misfor- 
tune of  Bacon,  in  being  subjected  to  the  instructed  judgment  of 
the  present  world  is,  that  he  is  now  obliged  to  meet  with  an 
audience  which  has,  for  more  than  two  centuries,  been  drinking,  at 
third  and  fourth  hands,  of  the  wisdom  of  which  he  was  the  sur- 
prising and  original  fountain.  "  These  two  incomparable  men," 
says  Lord  Macaulay,  "  the  Prince  of  Poets  and  the  Prince  of 
Philosophers,  made  the  Elizabethan  age  a  more  glorious  and 
important  era  in  the  history  of  the  human  mind  than  the  age  of 
Pericles,  of  Augustus,  or  of  Leo/'' ! 

That  Shakespeare  and  Bacon  were  thus  distinct  in  their  sepa- 
rate monarchies  of  mind,  is  in  no  way  more  evident  than  by  the 
fact  that,  though  the  plays  ceased  to  appear  in  1613,  three 
years  before  Shakespeare's  death,  the  Essays  continued  until 
1625,  which  was  the  year  before  Bacon's  death.  Indeed,  in  that 
latter  year,  which  was  the  sixty-fifth  of  Bacon's  age,  he  issued 
an  edition  of  twenty  of  them,  embracing  the  subjects  of  Truth, 
Revenge,  Adversity,  of  Simulation  and  Dissimulation,  of  Envy, 
of  Boldness,  of  Seditions  and  Troubles,  of  Travel,  of  Delays,  of 
Innovations,  of  Suspicion,  of  Plantations,  of  Prophecies,  of  Masques 
and  Triumphs,  of  Fortune,  of  Usury,  of  Building,  of  Gardens,  of 

1  "  Essay  on  Burleigh  and  his  Times,"  vol.  v.  p.  611. 


The  Historical  Plays. 

Anger,  and  of  the  Vicissitude  of  Things.  These  were  his  pet 
productions,  and  that  there  may  be  no  mistake,  as  to  his  own 
estimation  of  the  superiority  of  these  over  any  other  of  his  labours, 
he  declares,  in  the  dedication  to  this  edition  of  1625,  as  follows: — 
"  I  do  now  publish  my  Essays,  which,  of  all  my  other  works, 
have  been  most  current.  For  that,  as  it  seems,  they  come  home 
to  men's  business  and  bosoms,  I  have  enlarged  them  both  in 
number  and  weight ;  so  that  they  are  indeed  a  new  work." 

And  be  it  observed,  that  this  declaration  was  made  by  Bacon 
two  years  after  the  collated  plays  of  Shakespeare  had  been  pub- 
lished under  the  poet's  name  in  the  folio  of  1623.  How  is  it 
possible,  then,  for  us  to  believe,  that  a  man  so  covetous  of  literary 
fame  as  Bacon,  who  laboriously  prepared  his  Essays  for  the  press 
in  the  sixty-fifth  year  of  his  age,  and  who  revised  the  "  Advance- 
ment" twelve  separate  times,  never  lent  a  hand  to  the  arrangement 
of  the  Shakespearian  folio  of  1623,  if  he  had  really  been  the  author 
of  its  plays?  Or,  stranger  still,  that,  as  the  author  of  these  plays, 
he  had  not  discrimination  enough  to  know  that  they  were,  beyond 
all  comparison,  his  greatest  works,  and  had  already  caught  the 
mind  of  the  world  to  an  extent  which  promised  a  fame  greater 
than  could  be  expected  for  anything  he  had  ever  done.  Surely 
no  man  possessed  of  the  comprehensive  intellect  and  towering 
genius  indicated  in  the  Essays  and  the  Plays  combined,  could 
have  made  the  mistake  of  leaving  his  reputation  with  posterity 
solely  to  the  custody  of  his  subordinate  productions. 

In  passing  from  the  comedies  I  will  take  this  opportunity  to 
quote  the  opinion  of  Dr.  Johnson  as  to  our  poet's  merit  in  this 
branch  of  dramatic  composition.  "  In  tragedy/'  says  the  Doctor, 
"  he  is  always  struggling  after  some  occasion  to  be  comic,  but  in 
comedy  he  seems  to  repose,  or  to  luxuriate,  as  in  a  mode  of  thinking 
congenial  to  his  nature.  In  his  tragic  scenes  there  is  always 
something  wanting,  but  his  comedy  often  surpasses  expectation 
or  desire.  His  comedy  pleases  by  the  thoughts  and  the  language, 
and  his  tragedy,  for  the  greater  part,  by  incident  and  action. 
His  tragedy  seems  to  be  skill,  his  comedy  to  be  instinct."  Now, 
while  I  do  not  entirely  agree  with  the  learned  Doctor  in  all  of  the 
above  opinion,  he  must  have  every  careful  reader's  concurrence 
largely  in  the  following  : — 

"  Shakespeare,  with  his  excellences,  has  likewise  faults,  and 
faults  sufficient  to  obscure  and  overwhelm  any  other  merit.  I 


1 76  Shakespeare^  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

shall  show  them  in  the  proportion  in  which  they  appear  to  me, 
without  envious  malignity  or  superstitious  veneration.  ....  His 
first  defect  is  that  to  which  may  be  imputed  most  of  the  evil  in 
books  or  in  men.  He  sacrifices  virtue  to  convenience,  and  is  so 
much  more  careful  to  please  than  to  instruct,  that  he  seems  to 
write  without  any  moral  purpose.  From  his  writings,  indeed,  a 
system  of  social  duty  may  be  selected,  for  he  that  thinks  reason- 
ably must  think  morally ;  but  his  precepts  and  axioms  drop 
casually  from  him  j  he  makes  no  just  distribution  of  good  or 
evil,  nor  is  always  careful  to  show  in  the  virtuous  a  disappro- 
bation of  the  wicked ;  he  carries  his  persons  indifferently  through 
right  or  wrong,  and  at  the  close  dismisses  them  without  further 
care,  and  leaves  their  examples  to  operate  by  chance.  This  fault 
the  barbarity  of  his  age  cannot  extenuate ;  for  it  is  always  a 
writer's  duty  to  make  the  world  better,  and  justice  is  a  virtue 

independent  of  time  or  place In  his  comic  scenes  he  is 

seldom  very  successful,  when  he  engages  his  characters  in 
reciprocation  of  smartness  and  contests  of  sarcasm;  their  jests 
are  commonly  gross,  and  their  pleasantry  licentious  ;  neither  his 
gentlemen  nor  his  ladies  have  much  delicacy,  nor  are  sufficiently 
distinguished  from  his  clowns  by  any  appearance  of  refined 
manners.  Whether  he  represented  the  real  conversation  of  his 
time  is  not  easy  to  determine ;  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  is  commonly 
supposed  to  have  been  a  time  of  stateliness,  formality  and 
reserve ;  yet,  perhaps  the  relaxations  of  that  severity  were  not 
very  elegant.  There  must,  however,  have  been  always  some 
modes  of  gaiety  preferable  to  others,  and  a  writer  ought  to 

choose  the  best A  quibble  is  to  Shakespeare,  what  luminous 

vapours  are  to  the  traveller ;  he  follows  it  at  all  adventures ;  it 
is  sure  to  lead  him  out  of  his  way,  and  sure  to  engulf  him  in  the 
mire.  It  has  some  malignant  power  over  his  mind,  and  its 
fascinations  are  irresistible.  Whatever  be  the  dignity -or  pro- 
fundity of  his  disquisitions,  whether  he  be  enlarging  knowledge, 
or  exalting  affection,  whether  he  be  amusing  attention  with 
incidents,  or  enchanting  it  in  suspense,  let  but  a  quibble  spring 
up  before  him,  and  he  leaves  his  work  ^unfinished.  A  quibble  is 
the  golden  apple  for  which  he  will  always  turn  aside  from  his 
career,  or  stoop  from  his  elevation.  A  quibble,  poor  and  barren 
as  it  is,  gave  him  such  delight  that  he  was  content  to  purchase 
it  by  the  sacrifice  of  reason,  propriety,  and  truth.  A  quibble 


The  Historical  Plays — "  King  John!'         1 7  7 

was  to  him  the  fatal  Cleopatra  for  which  he  lost  the  world,  and 
was  content  to  lose  it." 

To  these  remarks  I  will  only  add,  that  to  me,  Shakespeare,  in 
comedy,  has  frequently  seemed  to  be  only  Shakespeare  in  his 
cups.  In  tragedy,  he  is  a  Titan  bearing  his  sublime  front  above 
the  clouds ;  in  comedy,  too  often  an  unbuttoned  Satyr,  grovelling 
amid  the  slops  and  fragments  of  the  table.  A  God,  perhaps  at 
times,  but  too  frequently  a  God  reeling  with  animal  relaxation, 
apparently  to  rest  his  brain. 


"KING  JOHN/' 

This  first  of  the  historical  plays  of  Shakespeare  was  founded  on 
an  anonymous  play,  called  "  The  Troublesome  Reign  of  King 
John,  with  the  Discovery  of  King  Richard  Cceur  de  Lion's  base 
son;  vulgarly  named  the  Bastard  Faulconbridge ;  also,  the 
Death  of  King  John  at  Swinstead  Abbey/'  Shakespeare  followed 
this  old  tragedy  pretty  closely,  though  he  was  careful  to  exclude 
a  scene  of  the  original  which  irreverently  alludes  to  "  the  merry 
nuns  and  brothers  "  when  Faulconbridge  is  practising  his  ex- 
tortions on  the  clergy.  The  exclusion  of  this  scene  is  attributed 
by  Gervinius,  from  whom  I  quote  the  above  expression,  to  a 
very  different  motive  from  the  one  which  I  fancy  is  most  obvious. 
The  German  commentator,  who  is  evidently  a  good  Protestant, 
says,  "  But  Shakespeare  did  not  go  so  far  as  to  make  a  farce  of 
Faulconbridge's  extortions  from  the  clergy :  the  old  piece  here 
offered  him  a  scene  in  which  merry  nuns  and  brothers  burst  forth 
from  the  opened  coffers  of  the  ' hoarding  abbots'  a  scene  certainly 
very  amusing  to  the  fresh  Protestant  feelings  of  the  time ; '  but 
to  our  poet's  impartial  mind  the  dignity  of  the  clergy,  nay,  even 
the  contemplativeness  of  cloister  life,  was  a  matter  too  sacred 
for  him  to  introduce  it  in  a  ridiculous  form  into  the  seriousness 
of  history."  2 

From  the  light  heretofore  thrown  upon  the  religious  faith  of 
our  poet,  I  read  the  motive  for  the  exclusion  of  this  Catholic 
scandal  differently  from  the  learned  German  Professor.  Shake- 
speare's motive  here  seems  to  be  located  in  the  sensitiveness  of 

2  "  Essay  on  Burleigh  and  his  Times,"  vol.  v.  p.  611. 


1 78    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

a  Catholic  for  the  decorums  of  his  sect — a  religious  sensitiveness 
which,  be  it  observed,  did  not  operate  to  protect  the  "  dignity  "  of 
the  Protestant  clergy,  when  derision  was  to  be  cast  upon  Sir 
Hugh,  "the  jack  priest"  of  the  "Merry  Wives ;"  upon  Sir 
Nathaniel,  the  curate,  in  "  Love's  Labour's  Lost ; "  upon  Sir 
Oliver  Martext,  the  Puritan  preacher,  in  "  As  You  Like  It ; " 
or  upon  the  illusory  Sir  Topaz,  in  "  Twelfth  Night." 

Hunter,  like  Gervinius,  also  exhibits  the  common  concern  of 
the  English  commentators  to  protect  Shakespeare  from  the  sus- 
picion of  Roman  Catholic  convictions.  Nevertheless,  the  evi- 
dences of  Catholicism  in  this  play  insensibly  operate  upon  even 
Hunter's  mind,  and  develope  their  force  as  follows  : — 

"  There  is  so  much  in  this  play  which  shows  that  the  mind  of 
the  poet  was  intent,  when  he  wrote  it,  on  affairs  connected  with 
the  Church,  that  it  may  be  submitted  as  a  probability,  not  at 
once  to  be  rejected,  that  in  thus  placing  Hubert,  in  imagination, 
in  a  scene  of  horror,  to  prepare  him  for  conceiving  and  executing 
a  deed  of  horror,  the  poet  had  in  his  mind  what  was  alleged  to 
be  a  practice  of  the  Jesuits  of  the  time.  They  had  their '  Chamber 
of  Meditation/  as  they  called  it,  in  which  they  placed  men  who 
were  '  to  undertake  some  great  business  of  moment,  as  to  kill 
a  king,  or  the  like/  'It  was  a  melancholy  dark  chamber/ 
(says  Burton,  in  his  '  Anatomy  of  Melancholy/ )  '  where  he  had 
no  light  for  many  days  together,  no  company,  little  meat, 
ghastly  pictures  of  devils  all  about  him,  and  by  this  strange 
usage  they  made  him  quite  mad,  and  beside  himself."'  The 
word  convertite"  continues  Hunter,  "  which  occurs  in  this  play, 
is  an  ecclesiastical  term,  with  a  peculiar  and  express  meaning, 
distinct  from  convert.  It  denotes  a  person  who,  having  relapsed, 
has  been  recovered,  and  this,  it  will  be  perceived,  is  the  sense  in 
which  Shakespeare  uses  it." 

It  is  at  this  point  of  our  scrutiny  of  the  play  of  King  John 
that  the  argument  of  Knight  on  the  line  "  Purchase  corrupted 
pardon  of  a  man/'  forces  itself  upon  our  attention ;  but  inasmuch 
as  that  has  been  pretty  thoroughly  discussed  in  the  first  division 
of  this  work,  we  will  refer  the  reader  back  to  pages  52,  53,  54, 
55,  56,  and  57  inclusive,  as  a  proper  continuation  of  this  chapter. 
These  extracts  close  our  illustrations  from  "  King  John"  on  the 
subject  of  religion.  We  come  now  to  those  which  exhibit  Shake- 
speare's proclivity  to  deify  and  worship  kings,  and  demonstrate 


The  Historical  Plays— •"  King  John:'         1 79 

his  utter  want  of  sympathy  with  any  movement  tending  to 
popular  liberty.  The  first  and  most  striking  proof  this  play 
gives  of  this  latter  tendency  is,  that  in  the  same  spirit  which 
directs  him  to  protect  the  Roman  Catholic  faith  from  derision 
(by  leaving  out  from  the  old  play,  which  was  his  model,  the 
scene  that  scandalized  the  nuns  and  monks),  he  refrains  from 
making  the  slightest  allusion,  in  his  version  of  "  King  John,"  to 
the  signing  of  MagnaCharta;  an  event,  unquestionably,  the  most 
momentous  as  well  as  the  most  dramatic  of  his  entire  reign. 
In  the  same  spirit  and  policy,  says  Gervinius,  "  he  has  softened 
for  the  better,  the  traits  of  the  principal  political  characters,  and 
has  much  obliterated  the  bad.  His  *  John,  his  Constance,  his 
Arthur,  his  Philip  Augustus,  even  his  Elinor,  are  better  people 
than  they  are  found  in  history.  .  .  .  The  base  previous  history 
of  Elinor  and  Constance  is  touched  upon  only  in  cursory  in- 
sinuations, or  is  entirely  overlooked.  .  .  .  King  John  himself  is 
kept  greatly  in  the  background,  and  even  his  historical  character 
is  softened  and  refined  by  Shakespeare." : 

The  following  may  be  classed  among  our  poet's  spontaneous 
laudations  of  the  great. 

Act  II.  Scene  2. 

K.  PHILIP.       Before  we  will  lay  down  our  just-borne  arms, 

We'll  put  thee  down,  'gainst  whom  these  arms  we  bear, 
Or  add  a  royal  number  to  the  dead, 
Gracing  the  scroll,  that  tells  of  this  war's  loss, 
With  slaughter  coupled  to  the  name  of  kings. 

BASTARD.         Ha  !  majesty,  how  high  thy  glory  towers, 
When  the  rich  blood  of  kings  is  set  on  fire. 

*  *  * 
Why  stand  these  royal  fronts  amazed  thus  ? 

*  *  * 

By  heaven,  these  scroyles  [scabs  or  citizens]  of  Angiers 

Flout  you,  kings ! 

*  *  * 
An*  if  thou  hast  the  mettle  of  a  Icing. 

Act  III.  Scene  1. 

CONSTANCE.  Thy  word 

Is  but  the  vain  breath  of  a  common  man  : 
Believe  me,  I  do  not  believe  thee,  man : 
I  have  a  kings  oath  to  the  contrary. 

3  Gervinius,  pp.  356-7. 


180    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

PAND.  (speaking  to  Kings  PHILIP  and  JOHN). 

Hail,  you  anointed  deputies  of  heaven. 

#  *  * 

K.  JOHN.     What  earthly  name  to  interrogatories 

Can  task  the  free  breath  of  a  sacred  king  ? 

*  *  * 
K.  PHILIP.                               Where  revenge  did  paint 

The  fearful  difference  of  incensed  Icings. 

Act  IV.  Scene  3. 

Before  the  Castle.     Present — PEMBEOKE,  SALISBUEY,  BIGOT,  and 

FAULCONBEIDGE. 

Enter  HUBEET. 

HUB.    Lords,  I  am  hot  with  haste  in  seeking  you. 

Arthur  doth  live ;  the  king  hath  sent  for  you. 

SAL.     O,  he  is  bold,  and  blushes  not  at  death : — 
Avaunt,  thou  hateful  villain,  get  thee  gone ! 

HUB.    I  am  no  villain. 

SAL.     Must  I  rob  the  law  ?  [Draining  his  sword. 

BAST.   Your  sword  is  bright,  sir ;  put  it  up  again. 

SAL.     Not  till  I  sheath  it  in  a  murderer's  skin. 

HUB.    Stand  back,  Lord  Salisbury,  stand  back,  I  say ; 

By  heaven,  I  think  my  sword's  as  sharp  as  yours : 
I  would  not  have  you,  lord,  forget  yourself, 
Nor  tempt  the  danger  of  my  true  defence ; 
Lest  I,  by  marking  of  your  rage,  forget 
Your  worth,  your  greatness,  and  nobility. 

BIG.      Out,  dunghill !  darst  thou  brave  a  nobleman  ? 

HUB.    Not  for  my  life :  but  yet  I  dare  defend 
My  innocent  life  against  an  emperor. 

Here  ends  our  illustrations  from  this  play  except  those  bearing 
upon  the  legal  acquirements  of  Shakespeare ;  and  these  again 
bring  us  to  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell. 


LEGAL  ACQUIREMENTS   AS   SHOWN   IN 

Lord  Campbell,  in  his  review  of  the  play  of  King  John 
from  the  above  point  of  view,  expresses  himself  somewhat  dis- 
appointed that  he  has  not  found  more,  of  what  he  calls  legalisms 
in  Shakespeare's  dramas,  founded  upon  English  history.  He 
accounts  for  this  paucity  of  legal  reference,  however,  by  the  fact, 
that  "  our  great  dramatist/'  has  in  these  histories  "  worked  upon 
the  foundations  already  laid  by  other  men,  who  had  no  technical 
knowledge."  "  Yet/"  he  continues,  "  we  find  in  several  of  the 


Legal  Acquirements  as  shown  in  "  King  John:'  j  8  i 

*  Histories  '  Shakespeare's  fondness  for  law  terms ;  and  it  is  still 
remarkable,  that,  whenever  ha  indulges  this  propensity,  he 
uniformly  lays  down  good  law."  His  lordship  gives  as  a  strong 
illustration  of  this  fact,  the  decision  by  King  John,  between 
Hubert  and  Philip  Faulconbridge  upon  the  question  of  bastardy 
pleaded  by  the  younger  brother,  against  Philip,  who,  however,  like 
Shakespeare's  eldest  daughter,  Susanna,  had  made  his  appearance 
after  the  nuptials  of  parents, 

"  Full  fourteen  weeks  before  the  course  of  time." 

The  King  legally  decides  that  Philip  is  legitimate,  and  is  there- 
fore his  father's  lawful  heir,  because  his 

"  Father's  wife  did  after  wedlock  bear  him." 

So  far,  however,  from  receiving  this  as  a  substantial  evidence  of 
Shakespeare's  law  learning,  it  seems  to  me  to  evince  no  more  legal 
knowledge  than  ought  to  be  expected  from  any  well-educated  youth 
of  twenty-one.  The  next  legal  illustration  which  Lord  Campbell 
gives  is  found  within  the  lines  spoken  by  the  Duke  of  Austria, 
upon  giving  his  pledge  to  support  the  title  of  Prince  Arthur 
against  King  John  : — 

"  Upon  thy  cheek  I  lay  this  zealous  kiss, 
As  seal  to  this  indenture  of  my  love." 

Lord  Campbell  regards  this  as  a  purely  legal  metaphor,  which 
might  come  naturally  from  an  attorney's  clerk,  who  had  often 
been  an  attesting  witness  to  the  execution  of  deeds.  I  quite 
agree  with  his  lordship  in  this  view,  but  the  expression  might 
just  as  naturally  have  come  from  any  intelligent  merchant  or 
poetaster  of  the  time. 

His  lordship  winds  up  his  analysis  of  "  King  John"  with  a 
reference  to  some  of  the  king's  language,  which  I  have  already 
given,  as  evidence  of  the  true  ancient  doctrine  of  the  supremacy 
of  the  crown  over  the  pope.  Upon  this  point,  his  lordship 
and  I  do  not  disagree. 

13 


1 82    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"  RICHARD  II." 

THIS  play  was  written  in  1593-4,  and  first  published  in  1597. 
Malone  says  it  was  published  in  quarto  no  less  than  five  several 
times  during  Shakespeare's  life.  "  The  first  edition  appeared  in 
1597,  without  the  scene  of  the  deposing-  of  King  Richard,  which 
was  inserted  in  the  edition  of  1608,"  during  the  reign  of  King 
James — the  deposition  of  Richard  having  been  suppressed  in  an 
earlier  play  of  "  Richard  II."  in  concession  to  the  suspicion  of 
Elizabeth,  that  such  a  scene  would  familiarize  the  public  with  out- 
rages on  the  royal  power,  and  thus  affect  her  own  safety  on  the 
throne.  Another  version  has  it,  that  the  scene  of  the  deposition 
was  the  result  of  an  intrigue  of  Essex,  the  favourite  of  Elizabeth, 
about  the  time  of  his  Jesuit  plot  and  disloyal  Irish  expedition 
(1598),  for  which  he  lost  his  head. 

Gervinius  says  upon  this  subject,  "  When  the  Earl  of  Essex, 
in  1601,  wished  to  excite  the  London  citizens  to  an  insurrection, 
in  order  that  he  might  remove  his  enemies  from  the  person  of  the 
queen,  he  ordered  his  confidential  friend,  Sir  Gilly  Merrick,  and 
others,  to  act  the  tragedy  of  "  Richard  II."  in  public  streets  and 
houses,  previous  to  the  outbreak  of  the  conspiracy,  in  order  to  in- 
flame the  minds  of  the  people.  Elizabeth,  hearing  of  this  per- 
formance, alluded  to  it  in  conversation,  calling  herself  Richard 
II.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  play  employed  by  these  con- 
spirators was  the  older  "  Richard  II."  For  Shakespeare's  drama, 
though  certainly  a  revolutionary  picture,  is  of  so  mild  a  character, 
and  demands  such  hearty  sympathy  for  the  dethroned  king,  and 
most  especially  in  the  very  scene  of  the  deposition,  that  it  would 
appear  unsuitable  for  such  an  object ;  besides,  in  the  editions 
before  1601,  the  whole  scene  of  the  deposition  of  Richard  in  the 
fourth  act,  although  it  must  have  been  written  by  the  poet  at  the 
outset,  was  not  even  printed,  and  certainly,  therefore,  was  not 
acted  in  Elizabeth's  reign." 


"  Richard  II."  ^3 

For  the  story,  or  rather  for  the  facts  of  this  drama,  Shake- 
speare has  closely  followed  the  historical  chronicle  of  Holinshed, 
except,  says  Rowe,  that  "he  has  sought  to  remedy  the  defect, 
which  consists  in  the  short  period  embraced  in  the  action  of  the 
drama  (the  two  years  between  1398  and  1400),  by  representing 
Isabel,  Richard's  Queen — who  was  only  twelve  years  of  age  when 
he  was  deposed — with  the  speech  and  actions  of  maturity." 
"  Shakespeare's  genius,"  continues  this  writer, "  has  been  lavishly 
poured  out  upon  the  character  of  Richard,  but  though  he  could 
not  entirely  pass  over  his  bad  qualities,  they  are  lightly  touched." 

It  is  the  historical  dramas,  and  particularly  those  of  "  Richard 
II.,"  and  of  the  First  and  Second  Parts  of  "  Henry  IV.,"  and  of 
"  Henry  V.,"  which  Shakespeare  makes  the  especial  instruments  for 
his  inculcation  of  subservience  to  the  nobility  and  king.  Though 
the  Houses  of  York  and  Lancaster  are  the  contending  parties 
during  the  entire  period  covered  by  these  four  and  the  three  suc- 
ceeding plays,  he  manages  to  divide  his  compliments  between  the 
nobles  of  those  respective  houses,  with  most  obsequious  equality, 
and  so  keeps  on,  till  the  bloody  stream  of  the  Roses  unites  in 
the  person  of  Henry  VII.  But  while  doing  this,  our  poet  never 
evinces  the  slightest  interest  in  the  sufferings  of  the  masses, 
whose  lives  are  but  the  fuel  of  the  strife.  And,  surely,  the 
people  endured  wrongs  enough  during  the  whole  of  this  turbu- 
lent period  to  enlist  some  slight  sympathy  from  the  great  genius, 
before  whose  piercing  and  poetic  eye  the  bloody  panorama  passed 
in  its  fresher  force.  In  addition  to  being  torn  from  their  un- 
reaped  fields,  and  cast  into  the  volcano  of  the  civil  strife  year  by 
year,  their  moral  condition  was  being  constantly  aggravated  by 
new  oppressions  and  new  shames.  Shakespeare  is  forced  to 
admit  this  portion  of  the  indictment  against  King  Richard  II.  in 
his  text;  and  while  he  recites,  in  vivid  words,  these  terrible 
exactions,  our  straining  thoughts  are  constantly  disappointed  of  a 
single  note  of  pity  or  of  protest.  His  thoughts,  his  admiration 
and  his  impulses,  are  always  with  the  nobles ;  his  worship  ever 
with  the  king.  The  following  sketch,  by  Gervinius,  of  Richard's 
wild  and  profligate  expenditure,  and  of  his  heartless  and  un- 
principled grinding  not  only  of  the  masses,  but  of  every  man 
he  dared  to  plunder,  presents  a  forcible  picture  of  the  criminal 
character  of  his  government,  and  likewise  of  the  deplorably 
sunken  condition  of  the  masses. 


184    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

"Impoverished  by  his  companions,  Richard  sees  his  coffers 
empty,  he  has  recourse  to  forced  loans,  to  extortion  of  taxes,  and  to 
fines  j  and  at  last  he  leases  the  English  kingdom  as  a  tenure  to  his 
parasites — no  longer  a  king,  only  a  landlord  of  England.  A 
traitor  to  this  unsubdued  land,  he  has,  by  his  contracts,  resigned 
the  conquests  of  his  father.  At  length  he  lays  hands  on  private 
property,  and  seizes  the  possessions  of  the  late  old  Lancaster  and 
of  his  banished  son,  thus  depriving  himself  of  the  hearts  of  the 
people  and  the  nobles.  The  ruin  of  the  impoverished  land,  the 
subversion  of  right,  the  danger  of  property,  a  revolt  in  Ireland, 
the  arming  of  the  nobles  in  self-defence;  all  these  indications 
allow  us  to  observe,  in  the  first  two  acts,  the  growing  seed  of  re- 
volution which  the  misled  king  had  scattered.  The  prognostica- 
tion of  the  fall  of  Richard  II.  is  read  by  the  voice  of  the  people 
in  the  common  signs  of  all  revolutionary  periods "  (Act  II. 
Scene  4)  : — 

Rich  men  look  sad,  and  ruffians  dance  and  leap, 

The  one,  in  fear  to  lose  what  they  enjoy, 

The  other,  to  enjoy  by  rage  and  war. 

"  Nevertheless/'  continues  the  learned  German  Professor, 
"  the  peculiar  right  of  the  king  is  not  esteemed  by  Shakespeare 
more  sacred  than  any  other.  ...  As  soon  as  Richard  had 
touched  the  inheritance  of  Lancaster,  he  had  placed  in  his  hands, 
as  it  were,  the  right  of  retaliation.  The  indolent  York  thus 
speaks  to  him  immediately : — 

Take  from  time  his  rights  ; 
Let  not  to-morrow  then  ensue  to-day ; 
Be  not  thyself,  for  how  art  thou  a  king, 
But  hy  fair  sequence  and  succession  ? 

"  He  tells  him  that  he  '  plucks  a  thousand  dangers  on  his  head/ 
that  he  loses  fa  thousand  well-disposed  hearts/  and  that  he 
'  pricks  his  tender  patience  to  those  thoughts,  which  honour  and 
allegiance  cannot  think/  ;' 

That  is  to  say,  "  the  peculiar  right  of  the  king,  which  usually 
stands  over  all,  is  not  esteemed  more  sacred  than  any  other/' 
when  it  invades  the  rights  of  any  branch  of  the  royal  family, 
or  clashes  with  those  of  any  of  the  nobility.  But  in  contrast  with 
the  sensitiveness  of  our  poet  in  regard  to  the  equities  of  property, 
we  look  to  him  in  vain  for  one  word  of  protest  against  the  inhu- 
manities and  oppressions  practised  upon  poverty. 


"Richard  II V 

In  scanning  these  spontaneous  expressions  in  our  poet's  text 
we  get  a  look,  as  it  were,  into  his  unguarded  soul,  and  we  are 
constantly  impressed  with  the  conviction  that  he  wrote  as  if  un- 
conscious he  was  writing  "  for  all  time  "  and  as  if  labouring  only 
for  the  hour.  His  main  motive  seemed  to  be  to  dramatize  for 
the  swarm  who  brought  him  their  sixpences  and  shillings,  and 
who  had  a  vulgar  yearning  to  look  upon  a  lord  and  to  lave  in  the 
sacred  atmosphere  of  even  illusory  noblemen  and  kings.  He 
worked  for  money,  for  a  solid  home  in  Stratford,  and  for  a  Shake- 
spearian coat-of-arms.  He  was  a  thoroughly  pleasant,  good- 
natured  man,  but  apparently  without  any  active  generosity,  and, 
I  regret  to  conclude,  not  burdened  heavily  with  moral  principle. 
In  short,  an  easy-going,  kind-hearted,  beaming  epicure,  who 
had  a  god  in  his  bosom,  without  knowing  it.  When  he  bent 
over  his  desk  and  set  his  thoughts  flowing  downward  through 
his  pen,  that  god,  thus  summoned,  flamed  at  the  electric  touch 
and  descended  to  the  earth.  The  bones  of  the  man  William 
Shakespeare  lie  as  dust  within  the  tomb  at  Stratford,  but  the 
god  which  inhabited  him  in  life  remains  with  us  to-day. 

But  let  us  proceed  to  the  illustrations  of  Shakespeare's 
catholic  and  aristocratic  tendencies,  afforded  by  this  play. 

The  first  note  I  have  marked  upon  the  margin  is  a  religious 
evidence  uttered  by  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  which  occurs  in  the 
first  scene  of  the  first  act,  when  Norfolk  confesses  to  having 
meditated  the  murder  of  the  Duke  of  Lancaster : — 

NOEFOLK.  For  you,  my  noble  lord  of  Lancaster, 
The  honourable  father  to  my  foe, 
Once  did  I  lay  in  ambush  for  your  life, 
A  trespass  that  doth  vex  my  grieved  soul ; 
But,  ere  Ilast  received  the  sacrament, 
I  did  confess  it;  and  exactly  beggM 
Your  grace's  pardon,  and,  I  hope,  I  had  it. 

Next  comes  an  illustration  of  the  worship  of  an  "  anointed" 
king,  which  occurs  in  the  next  scene,  between  John  of  Gaunt 
and  the  Duchess  of  Gloster : — 

GAUNT.   Heaven's  is  the  quarrel :  for  heaven's  substitute, 
Sis  deputy  anointed  in  his  sight, 
Hath  caused  his  death ;  the  which,  if  wrongfully, 
Let  heaven  avenge ;  for  I  may  never  lift 
An  angry  arm  against  his  minister. 


1 86    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

In  this  same  colloquy,  the  Duchess  remarks, — 

That  which  in  mean  men  we  entitle  patience, 
Is  pale,  cold  cowardice  in  noble  breasts. 

In  Scene  4  we  have  our  first  glimpse,  in  this  play,  of  Shake- 
speare's contempt  for  the  common  people,  in  the  following 
description  by  King  Richard  of  the  obsequious  court  which  his 
dangerous  rival,  Bolingbroke,  was  paying  to  the  populace  : — 

K.  RICH.  He  is  our  cousin,  cousin ;  but  'tis  doubt, 

When  time  shall  call  him  home  from  banishment, 

Whether  our  kinsman  come  to  see  his  friends. 

Ourself,  and  Bushy,  Bagot  here,  and  Green, 

Observed  his  courtship  to  the  common  people : — 

How  he  did  seem  to  dive  into  their  hearts, 

With  humble  and  familiar  courtesy : 

What  reverence  he  did  throw  away  on  slaves  ; 

Wooing  poor  craftsmen  with  the  craft  of  smiles, 

And  patient  underbearing  of  his  fortune, 

As  'twere,  to  banish  their  affects  with  him. 

Off  goes  his  bonnet  to  an  oyster-wench  ; 

A  brace  of  draymen  bid — God  speed  him  well, 

And  had  the  tribute  of  his  supple  Jcnee, 

With — "  Thanks,  my  countrymen,  my  loving  friends  ;" 

As  were  our  England  in  reversion  his, 

And  he  our  subjects'  next  degree  in  hope. 

GBEEN.      Well,  he's  gone ;  and  with  him  go  these  thoughts. 
Now  for  the  rebels,  which  stand  out  in  Ireland ; — 
Expedient  manage  must  be  made,  my  liege ; 
Ere  further  leisure  yield  them  further  means, 
For  their  advantage,  and  your  highness'  loss. 

K.  KICH.  We  will  ourself  in  person  to  this  war : 

And,  for  our  coffers — with  too  great  a  court, 

And  liberal  largess — are  grown  somewhat  light, 

We  are  enforced  to  farm  our  royal  realm ; 

The  revenue  whereof  shall  furnish  us 

For  our  affairs  in  hand :  If  that  come  short, 

Our  substitutes  at  home  shall  have  blank  charters; 

Whereto,  when  they  shall  know  what  men  are  rich, 

They  shall  subscribe  them  for  large  sums  of  gold, 

And  send  them  after  to  supply  our  wants ; 

For  we  will  make  for  Ireland  presently. 

In  the  first  scene  of  the  second  act,  Gaunt,  in  a  patriotic 
eulogium  upon  his  country,  delivers  the  following  : — 

This  royal  throne  of  kings,  this  sceptred  isle, 
This  earth  of  majesty,  this  seat  of  Mars, 


"Richard  II"  187 


This  other  Eden,  demi-paradise  ; 

This  fortress  built  by  Nature  for  herself, 

Against  infection  and  the  hand  of  war ; 

This  happy  breed  of  men,  this  little  world, 

This  precious  stone  get  in  the  silver  sea, 

Which  serves  it  in  the  office  of  a  wall, 

Or  as  a  moat  defensive  to  a  house, 

Against  the  envy  of  less  happier  lands ; 

This  blessed  plot,  this  earth,  this  realm,  this  England, 

This  nurse,  this  teeming  womb  of  royal  kings, 

Fear'd  by  their  breed,  and  famous  by  their  birth, 

Renowned  for  their  deeds  as  far  from  home, 

(For  Christian  service  and  true  chivalry) 

As  is  the  sepulchre  in  stubborn  Jewry 

Of  the  world's  ransom,  blessed  Mary's  Son  ; 

This  land  of  such  dear  souls,  this  dear,  dear  land, 

Dear  for  her  reputation  through  the  world, 

Is  now  leased  out  (I  die  pronouncing  it) 

Like  to  a  tenement  or  pelting  farm. 

Then,  while  rebuking  the  wasteful  King  from  his  dying  bed, 
he  goes  on — 

Now,  He  that  made  me,  knows  I  see  thee  ill, 
111  in  myself  to  see,  and  in  thee  seeing  ill. 
Thy  death-bed  is  no  lesser  than  thy  land, 
Wherein  thou  liest  in  reputation  sick : 
And  thou,  too  careless  patient  as  thou  art, 
Commit' st  thy  'nointed  body  to  the  cure 
Of  those  physicians  that  first  wounded  thee. 

In  Act  II.  Scene  2,  Northumberland  appeals  to  his  brother 
rebels  to 

Redeem  from  broking  pawn  the  blemish'd  crown, 
Wipe  off  the  dust  that  hides  our  sceptre's  gilt, 
And  make  high  majesty  look  like  itself. 

Of  course,  I  do  not  insist  that  these  natural  expressions  about 
"  high  majesty/'  &c.,  when  correctly  assigned  to  the  characters, 
go  for  much ;  but  the  fact  that  such  reverence  and  worship  are 
invariable  with  our  author,  and  that  his  expressions  of  contempt 
for  Man,  as  mere  man,  are  also  equally  invariable,  indicate 
together,  that  such  expressions  are  the  spontaneous  and  prevailing 
sentiments  of  the  writer  himself;  and,  in  that  point  of  view, 
they  go  for  a  great  deal. 

In  the  same  act  and  scene  the  following  occurs  in  a  room  in 
the  palace, — present :  Queen,  Bushy,  Bagot,  Green,  and  York : — 


1 88    Shakespeare^  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Enter  a  Servant. 
SEEV.   My  lord,  I  had  forgot  to  tell  your  lordship  : 

To-day,  as  I  came  by,  I  called  there ; 

But  I  shall  grieve  you  to  report  the  rest. 
YOBK.   What  is  it,  knave  ? 
SEEV.  An  hour  before  I  came,  the  duchess  died. 
YOEK.  God  for  his  mercy !  what  a  tide  of  woes 

Comes  rushing  on  this  woeful  land  at  once  ! 

I  know  not  what  to  do  : — I  would  to  God 

(So  my  untruth  had  not  provoked  him  to  it,) 

The  king  had  cut  off  my  head  with  my  brother's. 

What,  are  there  no  posts  despatch 'd  for  Ireland  ? 

How  shall  we  do  for  money  for  these  wars  ? 

Come,  sister — cousin,  I  would  say :  pray,  pardon  me. 

Go,  fellow  (to  the  Servant),  get  thee  home ;  provide  some  carts, 

And  bring  away  the  armour  that  is  there. 

In  Scene  3  of  the  same  act,  York  rebukes  the  banished 
Bolingbroke  for  invading  the  kingdom  before  his  sentence  is 
repealed,  with 

Com'st  thou  because  the  anointed  king  is  hence  ? 

That  portion  of  the  ceremony  of  a  coronation  which  consists 
in  "anointing"  a  newly-crowned  monarch  with  the  holy  oil  had 
obviously  made  a  deeply  religious  impression  upon  Shakespeare's 
mind,  to  judge  from  his  frequent  reference  to  it. 

In  Act  III.  Scene  2,  Richard,  just  returned  from  his  Irish 
expedition,  learns,  as  soon  as  he  has  landed  on  the  coast  of  Wales, 
that  the  banished  Bolingbroke  has  returned  in  arms.  His  weak 
nature  at  once  sinks  under  the  alarming  prospect,  and,  like  all 
cowards,  he  seeks  comfort  in  his  superstitious  hopes : — 

Not  all  the  water  in  the  rough  rude  sea 
Can  wash  the  balm  from  an  anointed  king : 
The  breath  ofivorldly  men  cannot  depose 
The  deputy  elected  by  the  Lord  : 
For  every  man  that  Bolingbroke  hath  press'd, 
To  lift  shrewd  steel  against  our  golden  crown, 
God  for  his  Bichard  hath  in  heavenly  pay 
A  glorious  angel :  then,  if  angels  fight, 

Weak  men  must  fall ;  for  heaven  still  guards  the  right. 
*  *  * 

AUMEELE.  Comfort,  my  liege  ;  remember  who  you  are. 
K.  RICH.     I  had  forgot  myself  :  Am  I  not  king  ? 

Awake  thou  sluggard  majesty  !  thou  sleep'st. 

Is  not  the  king's  name  forty  thousand  names  ? 


"Richard  II r 

Arm,  arm,  my  name  I  a  puny  subject  strikes 
At  thy  great  glory. — Look  not  to  the  ground, 
Ye  favourites  of  a  king  ;  are  we  not  high  ? 
High  be  our  thoughts  :  I  know,  my  uncle  York 
Hath  power  enough  to  serve  our  turn.    But  who 
Comes  here  ? 

Again  he  droops : — 

*  *  * 

For  heaven's  sake,  let  us  sit  upon  the  ground, 
And  tell  sad  stories  of  the  death  of  kings  : — 
How  some  have  been  deposed,  some  slain  in  war, 
Some  haunted  by  the  ghosts  they  have  deposed ; 
Some  poison'd  by  their  wives,  some  sleeping  kill'd ; 
All  murder'd  : — For  within  the  hollow  crown, 
That  rounds  the  mortal  temples  of  a  king 
Keeps  death  his  court :  and  there  the  antic  sits, 
Scoffing  his  state,  and  grinning  at  his  pomp ; 
Allowing  him  a  breath,  a  little  scene 
To  monarchize,  be  fear'd,  and  kill  with  looks ; 
Infusing  him  with  self  and  vain  conceit, — 
As  if  this  flesh,  which  walls  about  our  life, 
Were  brass  impregnable,  and,  humour'd  thus, 
Comes  at  the  last,  and  with  a  little  pin 
Bores  through  his  castle  wall,  and — farewell  king  ! 

Act  III.  Scene  3. 

A  Plain  before  Flint  Castle,  where  KING  RICHARD  has  taken  refuge. 
Enter  BOLINGBROKE  and  forces,  YOEK,  NORTHUMBERLAND,  and  others. 
RICHAED  appears  upon  the  battlements. 

BOLING.      See,  see,  King  Richard  doth  himself  appear, 

As  doth  the  blushing  discontented  sun 

From  out  the  fiery  portal  of  the  east, 

When  he  perceives  the  envious  clouds  are  bent 

To  dim  his  glory,  and  to  stain  the  track 

Of  his  bright  passage  to  the  Occident. 
YORK.          Yet  looks  he  like  a  king  ;  behold,  his  eye, 

As  bright  as  is  the  eagle's,  lightens  forth 

Controlling  majesty. 
K.  RICH.     We  are  amazed  ;  and  thus  long  have  we  stood 

\To  Northumberland. 

To  watch  the  faithful  bending  of  thy  knee, 

Because  we  thougJit  our  self  thy  lawful  king  : 

And  if  we  be,  how  dare  thy  joints  forget 

To  pay  their  awful  duty  to  our  presence  ? 

If  we  be  not,  show  us  the  hand  of  God 

That  hath  dismiss  d  us  from  our  stewardship; 

For  well  we  know,  no  hand  of  blood  and  bone 


190    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Can  gripe  the  sacred  handle  of  our  sceptre, 
Unless  he  do  profane,  steal,  or  usurp. 
And  though  you  think,  that  all,  as  you  have  done, 
Have  torn  their  souls,  by  turning  them  from  us, 
And  we  are  barren,  and  bereft  of  friends  ; — 
Yet  know, — my  master,  God  omnipotent, 
Is  mustering  in  his  clouds,  on  our  behalf, 
Armies  of  pestilence ;  and  they  shall  strike 
Your  children  yet  unborn,  and  unbegot ; 
That  lift  your  vassal  hands  against  my  head, 
And  threat  the  glory  of  my  precious  crown. 
Tell  Bolingbroke  (for  yond',  rnethinks,  he  is,) 
That  every  stride  he  makes  upon  my  land, 
Is  dangerous  treason :  He  is  come  to  ope 
The  purple  testament  of  bleeding  war ; 
But  ere  the  crown  he  looks  for  life  in  peace, 
Ten  thousand  bloody  crowns  of  mothers'  sons 
Shall  ill  become  the  flower  of  England's  face, 
Change  the  complexion  of  her  maid-pale  peace 
To  scarlet  indignation,  and  bedew 
His  pastures'  grass  with  faithful  English  blood. 

Scene  IV. — A  Garden. 

The  QUEEN,  who  has  overheard  the  Gardener  describe  the  fall  o/'RiCHAED, 
comes  from  her  concealment  and  exclaims,—' 

Why  dost  thou  say  King  Richard  is  deposed  ? 
Dar'st  thou,  thou  little  better  thing  than  earth, 
Divine  his  downfall  ?     Say,  where,  when,  and  how, 
Cam'st  thou  by  these  ill  tidings  ?     Speak,  thou  wretch  ! 

Act  IV.  Scene  1.—  Westminster  Hall. 
BOLING-.  In  God's  name,  I'll  ascend  the  regal  throne. 
BP.  OF  CAB.  Marry,  God  forbid  ! — 

Worst  in  this  royal  presence  may  I  speak, 

Yet  best  beseeming  me  to  speak  the  truth. 

Would  God,  that  any  in  this  noble  presence 

Were  enough  noble  to  be  upright  judge 

Of  noble  Richard  :  then  true  nobless  would 

Learn  him  forbearance  from  so  foul  a  wrong. 

What  subject  can  give  sentence  on  his  king  ? 

And  who  sits  here,  that  is  not  Richard's  subject? 

Thieves  are  not  judged,  but  they  are  by  to  hear, 

Although  apparent  guilt  be  seen  in  them  : 

And  shall  the  figure  of  God's  majesty, 

Sis  captain,  steward,  deputy  elect, 

Anointed,  crowned,  planted  many  years, 

Be  judged  by  subject  and  inferior  breath. 


"Richard  II." 

I  speak  to  subjects,  and  a  subject  speaks, 
Stirr'd  up  by  heaven  thus  boldly  for  his  king. 
-K.  RICH.  Gentle  Northumberland, 

If  thy  offences  were  upon  record, 
Would  it  not  shame  tbee,  in  so  fair  a  troop, 
To  read  a  lecture  of  them  ?     If  thou  would'st, 
There  should'st  thou  find  one  heinous  article, — 
Containing  the  deposing  of  a  Icing. 
*  * 

And  water  cannot  wash  away  your  sin. 
NOETH.          My  lord,  despatch ;  read  o'er  these  articles. 
K.  EICH.       Mine  eyes  are  full  of  tears,  I  cannot  see : 

And  yet  salt  water  blinds  them  not  so  much, 

But  they  can  see  a  sort  of  traitor  here. 

Nay,  if  I  turn  mine  eyes  upon  myself, 

I  find  myself  a  traitor  with  the  rest : 

For  I  have  given  here  my  soul's  consent, 

To  undeck  the  pompous  body  of  a  king  ; 

Make  glory  base,  and  sovereignty  a  slave; 

Proud  majesty,  a  subject ;  state,  a  peasant. 

Act  Y.  Scene  1. 

KING  EICHAED  (on  his  way  to  the  Tower),  QUEEN,  and  Ladies. 
K.  EICH.  (to  the  Queen).        Hie  thee  to  France 

And  cloister  thee  in  some  religious  house : 
Our  holy  lives  must  win  a  new  world's  crown, 
Which  our  profane  hours  here  have  stricken  down. 
*  *  4 

Good  sometime  queen,  prepare  thee  hence  for  France : 

Think,  I  am  dead  ;  and  that  even  here  thou  tak'st, 

As  from  my  death-bed,  my  last  living  leave. 

In  winter's  tedious  nights,  sit  by  the  fire 

With  good  old  folks ;  and  let  them  tell  thee  tales 

Of  woeful  ages,  long  ago  betid  : 

And,  ere  thou  bid  good  night,  to  quit  their  grief, 

Tell  thou  the  lamentable  fall  of  me, 

And  send  the  hearers  weeping  to  their  beds. 

For  why,  the  senseless  brands  will  sympathize 

The  heavy  accent  of  thy  moving  tongue, 

And,  in  compassion,  weep  the  fire  out : 

And  some  will  mourn  in  ashes,  some  coal-black, 

For  the  deposing  of  a  rightful  king. 

In  Scene  2  of  the  above  act,  the  pageant  of  Richard,  being  led 
in  triumph  at  the  heels  of  Bolingbroke,  is  thus  described  by  the 
old  York  to  his  Duchess : — 

DUCH.     Alas,  poor  Eichard !  where  rides  he  the  while  ? 


1 92    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

YOKE.    As  in  a  theatre,  the  eyes  of  men, 

After  a  well-graced  actor  leaves  the  st£ge, 

Are  idly  bent  on  him  that  enters  next, 

Thinking  his  prattle  to  be  tedious : 

Even  so,  or  with  much  more  contempt,  men's  eyes 

Did  scowl  on  Richard  ;  no  man  cried,  God  save  him  ; 

No  joyful  tongue  gave  him  his  welcome  home  : 

But  dust  was  thrown  upon  his  sacred  head  ; 

Which  with  such  gentle  sorrow  he  shook  off, — 

His  face  still  combating  with  tears  and  smiles, 

The  badges  of  his  grief  and  patience, — 

That  had  not  God,  for  some  strong  purpose,  steel'd 

The  hearts  of  men,  they  must  perforce  have  melted, 

And  barbarism  itself  have  pitied  him  : 

But  heaven  hath  a  hand  in  these  events. 

In  the  next  scene,  which  is  at  Windsor  Castle,  where  Boling1- 
broke  at  last  figures  as  king,  the  young  Duke  of  Aumerle 
rushes  into  the  royal  presence,  in  order  to  forestall  his  father, 
York,  in  revealing  a  treason  against  his  majesty.  Aumerle,  in 
advance  of  his  father's  arrival,  confesses  his  intended  crime, 
declares  he  has  repented  of  it,  and  casts  himself  at  the  king's 
feet,  imploring  pardon. 

At  this  moment,  and  just  as  he  has  received  a  qualified 
forgiveness,  York  comes  thundering  at  the  door,  and  finding  it 
locked — a  precaution  which  Aumerle  had  taken  to  prevent 
interruption  while  he  made  his  confession  to  the  king — 
exclaims, — 

YOEK  (outside).  My  liege,  beware ;  look  to  thyself  ; 

Thou  hast  a  traitor  in  thy  presence  there. 

BOLINO.      Villain,  I'll  make  thce  safe.  [Drawing 

AUM.  Stay  thy  revengeful  hand, 

Thou  hast  no  cause  to  fear. 
YOEK.          Open  the  door,  secure,  foolhardy  king  : 

Shall  I,  for  love,  speak  treason  to  thy  face  ? 

Open  the  door,  or  I  will  break  it  open. 

[Bolingbroke  opens  the  door. 

Enter  YOEK. 
BOLING.      What  is  the  matter,  uncle  ?     Speak ; 

Eecover  breath ;  tell  us  how  near  is  danger, 

That  we  may  arm  us  to  encounter  it. 
YOEK.         Peruse  this  writing  here,  and  thou  shalt  know 

The  treason  that  my  haste  forbids  me  show. 
AUM.  Eemember,  as  thou  read'st,  thy  promise  past : 


"Richard  II r  193 

I  do  repent  me ;  read  not  my  name  there, 
My  heart  is  not  confederate  with  my  hand. 
YOKE.    'Twas,  villain,  ere  thy  hand  did  set  it  down.— 
I  tore  it  from  the  traitor's  bosom,  king  ; 
Fear,  and  not  love,  begets  his  penitence  ; 
Forget  to  pity  him,  lest  thy  pity  prove 
A  serpent  that  will  sting  thee  to  the  heart. 

The  Duchess,  Aumerle's  mother,  next  arrives,  and  throwing 
herself  at  the  King's  feet,  unites  in  beseeching  his  pardon.  Old 
York,  however,  remains  obdurate,  and,  in  rcjy  to  Aumerle's 
ejaculation, — 

Unto  my  mother's  prayers,  I  bend  my  knee, 

replies, — 

Against  them  both  my  true  joints  bended  be. 

The  King,  nevertheless,  forgives  Aumerle;  whereupon  the 
Duchess,  overcome  with  gratitude  for  the  royal  clemency,  bursts 
out  with 

A  god  on  earth  thou  art ! 

This  scene  distinctly  teaches  that  devotion  to  a  king  is  a  superior 
obligation  to  the  ties  of  nature. 

Finally,  Richard  is  barbarously  murdered  by  Sir  Pierce  Exton, 
by  the  secret  orders  of  Bolingbroke;  who,  however,  having 
gained  his  object  in  getting  Richard  out  of  the  way,  thus 
rewards  his  murderer: — 

BOLING.    Exton,  I  thank  thee  not ;  for  thou  hast  wrought 

A  deed  of  slander,  with  thy  fatal  hand, 

Upon  my  head,  and  all  this  famous  land. 
EXTON.      From  your  own  mouth,  my  lord,  did  I  this  deed. 
BOLING.    They  love  not  poison  that  do  poison  need, 

Nor  do  I  thee ;  though  I  did  wish  him  dead, 

I  hate  the  murderer,  love  him  murdered. 

The  guilt  of  conscience  take  thou  for  thy  labour, 

But  neither  my  good  word,  nor  princely  favour : 

With  Cain  go  wander  through  the  shade  of  night, 

And  never  show  thy  head  by  day  nor  light. 

Lords,  I  protest,  my  soul  is  full  of  woe, 

That  blood  should  sprinkle  me,  to  make  me  grow. 

Come,  mourn  with  me  for  what  I  do  lament, 

And  put  on  sullen  black,  incontinent ; 

I'll  make  a  voyage  to  the  Holy  Land, 

To  wash  this  blood  off  from  my  guilty  hand  : 

March  sadly  after ;  grace  my  mournings  here, 

In  weeping  after  this  untimely  bier. 


194    Shakespeare^  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

A  fine,  frank,  honest  Christian  king  is  this ! 

The  argument  of  the  play  of  "  King  Richard  II."  is,  on  the 
one  side,  that  an  "anointed"  king  may  devote  his  life  to 
profligacy,  may  farm  out  his  revenues  to  meet  his  pleasures, 
seize  the  lands  and  incomes  of  his  nobles  and  bring  the  State  to 
bankruptcy  and  ruin,  without  forfeiting  the  allegiance  of  the 
nobles,  the  respect  of  the  people,  or  his  right  to  the  throne. 
On  the  other  side,  it  is  held  by  Bolingbroke  and  the  nobles  who 
take  part  with  him,  that  rebellion  against  the  kingly  authority 
is  justified  in  the  aristocracy,  by  any  attempt  on  the  part  of  the 
crown  to  appropriate  or  sequester  their  estates.  The  whole 
invasion  of  Bolingbroke  is  embarked  upon  this  latter  text,  and 
the  most  notable  defect  of  the  presentation  is,  that  the  people, 
all  of  whom  are  constantly  plundered  and  outraged,  never  have 
their  wrongs  alluded  to  as  a  recognizable  element  in  the  picture. 
Nay,  these  " slaves''  these  " craftsmen"  these  " subjects/'  these 
" common  people"  these  "  mean  men,"  these  " little  better  things 
than  earth''  are  only  used  by  Shakespeare  to  fill  up  the  spaces 
and  make  the  main  scene  work.  The  broadest  illustration  of 
this  utter  contempt  for  the  rights  and  sufferings  of  the  people 
may  be  found,  perhaps,  in  the  words  of  Bolingbroke,  when  he 
appears  at  the  head  of  the  revolted  nobles  and  insurgent  forces 
before  the  King's  castle  in  the  third  act.  On  that  occasion  he 
directs  Northumberland  to  "  go  to  the  rude  ribs  of  that  ancient 
castle"  and  say,  that  he,  Bolingbroke,  has  come  to  England  in 
this  warlike  form,  simply  to  recover  his  rights  as  Duke  of 
Lancaster;  and  then  bids  him  to  give  the  assurance  to  Richard, 
that  he 

On  both  his  knees  doth  kiss  King  Richard's  hand. 
*  *  * 

Even  at  his  feet  to  lay  my  arms  and  power, 
Provided  that  my  banishment  repealed, 
And  lands  restored,  be  freely  granted. 

Then  follows  a  threat,  on  the  supposition  that  these  conditions 
be  refused,  which  shows  where  the  people  stand  and  how  they 
are  considered,  in  the  mind  of  an  author  who  makes  no 
declaration  in  their  favour  : — 

If  not,  I'll  use  the  advantage  of  my  power, 

And  lay  the  summer  s  dust  with  showers  of  Mood, 

Rain  d  from  the  wounds  of  slaughter  d  Englishmen. 


"Richard  II"  I95 

Surely  the  people,  in  this  connexion,  were  worth  one  thought 
of  Consideration ;  and  should  not  have  been  paraded  mechanically 
before  the  comprehension,  as  if  they  were  merely  so  many  horses 
or  oxen  incidental  to  the  strife. 

A  great  effort  has  been  made,  in  connexion  with  this  play,  by 
Nathaniel  Holmes,  Judge  and  Professor  of  Law  in  Harvard 
University,  Cambridge,  U.S.A.,  the  scholarly  and  ingenious 
leader  of  the  American  Baconians,  to  prove  that  Bacon  had 
vaguely  acknowledged  himself  to  be  the  author  of  "  Richard  II.," 
because  he  had  admitted  himself  to  be  under  the  suspicion  of  the 
Queen,  at  the  time  when  "  Richard  II."  was  being  acted  under 
the  express  patronage  of  Essex  (1598)  with  the  deposition  scene 
in.  The  history  of  the  times,  however,  clearly  shows,  through 
the  records  of  the  courts  in  1600,  that  the  matter  which  aroused 
the  suspicion  of  the  Queen,  on  the  subject  of  the  presentation  to 
the  public  mind  of  the  deposition  of  King  Richard,  was  a  pam- 
phlet published  by  one  Dr.  Hay  ward  in  1599,  in  which  the  story 
of  that  political  event  was  insidiously  put  forward.  Bacon  was 
really  thought  to  have  secretly  favoured  the  production  of  Hay- 
ward's  pamphlet,  and  so  strongly  did  this  suspicion  prevail  at 
court,  that  even  Elizabeth  once  angrily  alluded  to  "  something 
which  had  grown  from  him,  though  it  went  about  in  others' 
names."  This  enigmatic  expression  is  eagerly  seized  upon  by 
Judge  Holmes  as  an  intimation  by  the  Queen  that  he,  Bacon, 
had  really  written  the  offensive  play,  though  it  had  been  pub- 
lished under  Shakespeare's  name. 

It  seems  to  be  absurd  that  the  suspicion  of  the  Queen  could 
have  referred  to  the  play,  which,  as  a  treatise  on  the  deposition 
of  a  king,  did  not  offend  her  successor  James  I.,  and  therefore  is 
not  likely  to  have  been  the  offensive  matter  which  "grew  from 
Bacon,  but  went  about  in  other  names." 

The  parallelisms  of  language  between  some  of  the  expressions 
in  "  Richard  II."  and  in  Bacon's  "  Essays,"  as  presented  by  Judge 
Holmes,  do  not  claim  that  amount  of  space  from  us  which  would 
be  requisite  for  their  presentation.  They  have  failed  to  impress 
me  in  the  least,  but  that  no  injustice  may  be  done  him  by  this 
summary  disposal  of  them,  I  commend  his  ingenious  volume  on 
"  The  Authorship  of  Shakespeare  "  to  the  reader.  It  was  published 
by  Hurd  and  Houghton,  New  York,  1866. 


196    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


THERE  is  but  little  in  this  play  or  in  the  next  (which  is  the 
second  part  or  division  of  the  same  history),  bearing  upon  the 
special  points  of  inquiry  we  are  engaged  upon.  There  is  enough, 
however,  as  well  in  politics,  sentiment,  morals,  and  religion,  $o 
make  them  both  important,  as  supports  to  our  previous  analyses, 
in  each  of  those  respects. 

The  conspicuous  figures  of  Henry  IV.,  in  both  of  its  Parts, 
are  Falstaff,  Hotspur,  and  Prince  Hal;  the  former  outranking 
both  as  a  dramatic  identity,  and  tempting  my  notice  in  this 
essay  to  so  great  an  extent,  that  I  cannot  refrain  from  expressing 
regret  that  the  peculiar  line  of  our  examination  does  not  take 
Falstaff  in.  Some  future  effort,  however,  of  a  different  character 
from  this  may  justify  me  in  that  pleasure.  I  will  only  pause  a 
moment  at  this  point  to  say,  that  history  had  given  so  bad  a 
character  to  the  Prince  of  Wales  (or  "  Prince  Hal/'  as  the 
English  love  to  call  him),  that  our  poet,  in  order  to  elevate  him 
to  the  plane  which  would  be  requisite  for  the  heroic  action  of  his 
subsequent  character  as  Henry  V.,  ingeniously  introduced  the 
portraitures  of  Falstaff  and  his  low  companions  as  a  foil ;  and 
also  to  show  how  instinctively  a  royal  nature  would  rise  above 
casual  degradation,  as  soon  as  touched  by  a  noble  and  ambitious 
impulse.  Having  once  created  Falstaff,  however,  the  boundless 
wit  of  Shakespeare,  which,  after  all,  was  larger  than  his  worship, 
made  the  fat  knight  a  greater  stage  character  than  either  Harry 
Percy  or  the  Prince  of  Wales. 

The  main  theme  of  the  First  Part  of  "  Henry  IV."  is  merely 
a  continuation  of  the  political  history  which  is  begun  in  "  Richard 
II."  The  strife  is  kept  up  between  the  nobles  and  the  crown, 
and  the  subject  of  contention  is  that  of  their  respective  dignities 
and  powers.  The  people,  however,  are  never  brought  forward 


"  Henry  IV."— Part  /.  197 


except   in   the   form   of  soldiers,  and  then  only  as  pawns  or 
"  creatures  "  to  fill  the  game. 

The  following  are  the  extracts  which  strike  me  in  the  text : — 

Act  IY.  Scene  3. 

BLUNT.      So  long  as  out  of  limit  and  true  rule 
You  stand  against  anointed  majesty. 

Act  V.  Scene  2. 

HOTSPUB.  Arm,  arm,  with  speed !  and  fellows,  soldiers,  friends, 
Better  consider  what  you  have  to  do. 

This  is  the  first  instance  in  which  I  find  the  common  people 
addressed  even  in  the  name  of  soldiers,  without  some  fling  of 
undervaluation.  • 

Again  Hotspur  : — 

And  if  we  live,  we  live  to  tread  on  kings ; 
If  die,  brave  death,  when  princes  die  with  us. 

Scene  4. 

(In  the  midst  of  battle.) 
PEINCE  JOHN  (Prince  Henry  s  brother). 

We  breathe  too  long — come,  cousin  Westmoreland, 
Our  duty  this  way  lies ;  for  God's  sake,  come. 

\_Exit,  to  re-enter  thejtght,  as  becomes  a  Prince. 

Prince  Henry  then,  finding  his  father  and  Douglas  engaged 
at  swords'  point,  calls  the  King  off,  and,  after  a  brief  combat 
with  Douglas,  makes  the  latter  fly.  Prince  Henry  next  fights 
with  and  kills  Hotspur. 

Act  V.  Scene  5. 
KING  HENEY  (to  Worcester). 

Three  knights  upon  our  part  slain  to-day, 
A  noble  earl,  and  many  a  creature  else, 
Had  been  alive  this  hour 
If  like  a  Christian,  thou  hadst  truly  borne 
Betwixt  our  armies  true  intelligence.  • 


THE   LEGAL   POINTS. 


The  first  legalism  found  by  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell  in 
this  play  is,  that  "the  partition  of  England  and  Wales,  between 
Mortimer,  Glendower,  and  Hotspur  "  is  conducted  by  Shake- 
speare in  as  attorney-like  fashion  as  if  it  had  been  the  partition 
of  a  manor  between  joint  tenants,  tenants  in  common,  or  co- 
partners. 


198    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

MOETIM.   England,  from  Trent  and  Severn  hitherto, 
By  south  and  east  is  to  my  part  assigned : 
And  westward,  Wales,  beyond  the  Severn  shore : 
And  all  the  fertile  land  within  that  bound, 
To  Owen  Glendower : 
And,  dear  Coz,  to  you, 

The  remnant  northward,  lying  off  from  Trent ; 
And  our  indentures  tripartite  are  drawn, 
Which  being  sealed  interchangeably — 

' '  It  may  well  be  imagined/-'  continues  his  lordship,  "  that  in 
composing  this  speech  Shakespeare  was  recollecting  how  he  had 
seen  a  deed  of  partition  tripartite  drawn  and  executed  in  his 
master's  office  at  Stratford. 

"Afterwards,  in  the  same  scene,  he  makes  the  unlearned 
Hotspur  ask  impatiently  : — 

"  Are  the  indentures  drawn  ?  shall  we  be  gone  ? 

"  Shakespeare  may  have  been  taught  that  '  livery  of  seisin ' 
was  not  necessary  to  a  deed  of  partition,  or  he  would  probably 
have  directed  this  ceremony  to  complete  the  title. 

"  So  fond  is  he  of  law  terms,  that  afterwards,  when  Henry  IV. 
is  made  to  lecture  the  Prince  of  Wales  on  his  irregularities,  and 
to  liken  him  to  Richard  II.,  who,  by  such  improper  conduct,  lost 
the  crown,  he  uses  the  forced  and  harsh  figure,  that  Richard 

"  Enfeoffed  himself  to  popularity  (Act  III.  Scene  2). 

"  I  copy  Malone's  note  of  explanation  on  this  line :  '  Gave 
myself  up  absolutely  to  popularity.  A  feoffment  was  the 
ancient  mode  of  conveyance,  by  which  all  lands  in  England  were 
granted  in  fee- simple  for  several  ages,  till  the  conveyance  of  lease 
and  release  was  invented  by  Sergeant  Moor  about  the  year  1830. 
Every  deed  of  feoffment  was  accompanied  with  livery  of  seisin, 
that  is,  with  the  delivery  of  corporal  possession  of  the  land  or 
tenement  granted  in  fee/  y' 

The  two  other  lines  which  Lord  Campbell  finds  to  support  this 
view  in  this  play  is  the  line  last  quoted, — 

Enfeoffed  himself  to  popularity, 

And  the  further  lines,  in  the  fourth  act, — 
He  came  but  to  be  Duke  of  Lancaster, 
To  sue  his  livery,  and  beg  his  peace. 


"  Henry  I  V:'—Part  II.  1 99 

"HENRY  iv." — PART  n. 

The  Second  Part  of  "  Henry  IV.,"  followed  immediately  on 
the  heels  of  the  First.  It  was  probably  written  in  1597,  as  it  is 
mentioned  in  Meares'  "  Wit's  Treasury"  in  1598,  and  contains 
an  allusion  to  a  political  event  which  took  place  in  1596.  It  is 
but  a  continuation  of  the  First  Part,  and  carries  through  it  the 
same  tone,  and,  with  the  exception  of  the  brilliant  Hotspur  and 
one  or  two  indifferent  figures,  the  same  characters.  It  supplies 
us  therefore  with  no  new  argument  or  theme,  but  I  find  it  chiefly 
remarkable  for  its  presentation,  without  the  slightest  condemna- 
tion by  our  poet,  of  one  of  the  most  monstrous  and  frightful 
pieces  of  treachery  by  the  party  he  favours,  which  the  history  of 
civilization  gives  any  record  of.  The  murder  of  the  sons  of 
Amurath  the  Third,  by  their  brother  Mahomet,  that  took  place 
in  Turkey  in  February,  1596,  and  which  is  the  political  event 
above  alluded  to,  does  not  begin  to  equal  it  in  atrocity  and 
horror.  And  yet  Shakespeare  never  droops  his  eye  with  con- 
demnation of  it ;  nor  can  I  find  that  this  conduct  on  the  part  of 
our  poet  arouses  the  reprobation  of  any  of  the  commentators; 

The  shameful  deed  I  speak  of  occurs  in  the  first  scene  of  the 
fourth  act.  The  rebels  who,  in  the  First  Part,  had  been  led  by 
Hotspur,  Glendower,  and  Mortimer,  were  beaten  at  Shrewsbury, 
with  the  loss  of  Percy — 

Whose  spirit  lent  a  fire 
Even  to  the  dullest  peasant  in  his  camp — 

have  again  made  head  under  the  Archbishop  of  York,  the  Duke 
of  Northumberland,  and  Lords  Hastings  and  Mowbray,  supported 
by  Glendower,  with  an  army  in  Wales. 

The  main  body  of  these  rebels,  which  the  forces  of  the  King 
under  Prince  John  of  Lancaster  are  hurrying  to  cope  with,  lie 
in  Yorkshire,  and  are  under  the  command  of  the  Archbishop. 
While  they  stand  arrayed,  expecting  the  attack  of  the  royal 
army,  the  Earl  of  Westmoreland  comes  as  an  ambassador  from 
the  royal  commander,  and  thus  opens  his  negotiations  :— 

Act  IV.  Scene  1. 
WEST.   Health  and  fair  greeting  from  our  general, 

The  Prince,  Lord  John,  and  Duke  of  Lancaster. 
ARCH.  Say  on,  my  lord  of  Westmoreland,  in  peace; 

What  doth  concern  your  coming  ? 


2OO    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

WEST.  Then,  my  lord, 

Unto  your  grace  do  I  in  chief  address 
The  substance  of  my  speech.     If,  that  rebellion 
Came  like  itself,  in  base  and  abject  routs,  • 
Led  on  by  bloody  youth,  guarded  with  rage, 
And  countenanced  by  boys,  and  beggary ; 
I  say,  if  damn'd  commotion  so  appear'd, 
Ip  his  true,  native,  and  most  proper  shape, 
You,  reverend  father,  and  these  noble  lords, 
Had  not  been  here  to  dress  the  ugly  form 
Of  base  and  bloody  insurrection 
With  your  fair  honours.     You,  lord  archbishop,— 
Whose  see  is  by  a  civil  peace  maintain'd  ; 
Whose  beard  the  silver  hand  of  peace  hath  touch'd ; 
Whose  learning  and  good  letters  peace  hath  tutor'd  ; 
Whose  white  investments  figure  innocence, 
The  dove  and  very  blessed  spirit  of  peace, — 
Wherefore  do  you  so  ill  translate  yourself, 
Out  of  the  speech  of  peace,  that  bears  such  grace, 
Into  the  harsh  and  boist'rous  tongue  of  war  ? 
Turning  your  books  to  graves,  your  ink  to  blood, 
Your  pens  to  lances ;  and  your  tongue  divine 
To  a  loud  trumpet,  and  a  point  of  war  ? 

AECH.  Wherefore  do  I  this  ?— so  the  question  stands. 
Briefly  to  this  end : 

The  Archbishop  then  details  the  rebels'  grievances. 
Westmoreland  replies,  and  tenders  liberal  terms  if  they  will 
lay  down  their  arms.     He  adds, — 

This  offer  comes  from  mercy,  not  from  fear : 

For  lo !  within  a  ken,  our  army  lies : 

Upon  mine  honour,  all  too  confident 

To  give  admittance  to  a  thought  of  fear. 

Our  battle  is  more  full  of  names  than  yours, 

Our  men  more  perfect  in  the  use  of  arms, 

Our  armour  all  as  strong,  our  cause  the  best ; 

Then  reason  wills,  our  hearts  should  be  as  good  :— 

Say  you  not  then,  our  offer  is  compell'd. 
MOWB.    Well,  by  my  will,  we  shall  admit  no  parley. 
WEST.     That  argues  but  the  shame  of  your  offence : 

A  rotten  case  abides  no  handling. 
HAST.      Hath  the  prince  John  a  full  commission, 

In  very  ample  virtue  of  his  father, 

To  hear,  and  absolutely  to  determine 

Of  what  conditions  we  shall  stand  upon  ? 
WEST.     That  is  intended  in  the  general's  name  : 

I  muse,  you  malce  so  slight  a  question. 


"  Henry  IV."— Part  II. 


201 


AECH.     Then  take,  my  lord  of  Westmoreland,  this, 

For  this  contains  our  general  grievances  :— 

Each  several  article  herein  redress'd ; 

All  members  of  our  cause,  both  here  and  hence, 

That  are  insinew'd  to  this  action, 

Acquitted  by  a  true  substantial  form ; 

And  present  execution  of  our  wills 

To  us,  and  to  our  purposes,  consign'd : 

We  come  within  our  awful  banks  again, 

And  knit  our  powers  to  the  arm  of  peace. 
WEST.     This  will  I  show  the  general.     Please  you,  lords, 

In  sight  of  both  our  battles  we  may  meet : 

And  either  end  in  peace,  which  heaven  so  frame  ! 

Or  to  the  place  of  difference  call  the  swords 

Which  must  decide  it. 

AECH.     My  lord,  we  will  do  so.  •      \JExit  WEST. 

Mows.    There  is  a  thing  within  my  bosom  tells  me, 

That  no  conditions  of  our  peace  can  stand. 
HAST.      Fear  you  not  that :  if  we  can  make  our  peace 

Upon  such  large  terms  and  so  absolute, 

As  our  conditions  shall  consist  upon, 

Our  peace  shall  stand  as  firm  as  rocky  mountains. 
#  #  # 

HAST.      Besides  the  king  hath  wasted  all  his  rods 
On  late  offenders,  that  he  now  doth  lack 
The  very  instruments  of  chastisement : 
So  that  his  power,  like  to  a  fangless  lion, 
May  offer,  but  not  hold. 

The  scene  then  changes/ so  as  to  bring  the  hostile  commanders 
confronted  with  each  other. 

Scene  2. — Another  part  of  the  Forest. 

Enter  from  one  side,  MOWBEAY,  the  AECHBISHOP,  HASTINGS,  and  others; 
from  the  other  side,  PEINCE  JOHN   of  LANCASTEE,  WESTMOEELAND, 
Officers,  and  Attendants. 

P.  JOHN.  You  are  well  encounter Jd  here,  my  cousin  Mowbray : 
Good  day  to  you,  gentle  lord  archbishop, 
And  so  to  you,  Lord  Hastings, — and  to  all, 
My  lord  of  York,  it  better  shew'd  with  you, 
When  that  your  flock,  assembled  by  the  bell, 
Encircled  you,  to  hear  with  reverence 
Your  exposition  on  the  holy  text ; 
Than  now  to  see  you  here  an  iron  man, 
Cheering  a  rout  of  rebels  with  your  drum, 
Turning  the  word  to  sword,  and  life  to  death. 
That  man,  that  sits  within  a  monarch's  heart, 


2O2    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View, 

And  ripens  in  the  sunshine  of  his  favour, 

Would  he  abuse  the  countenance  of  the  king  ? 

Alack  !  what  mischiefs  might  be  set  abroach, 

In  shadow  of  such  greatness.    With  you,  lord  bishop, 

It  is  even  so.    Who  hath  not  heard  it  spoken, 

How  deep  you  were  within  the  books  of  God  ? 

To  us,  the  speaker  in  his  parliament ; 

To  us,  the  imagined  voice  of  God  himself; 

The  very  opener  and  intelligencer, 

Between  the  grace,  the  sanctities  of  heaven, 

And  our  dull  workings :  O,  who  shall  believe, 

But  you  misuse  the  reverence  of  your  place ; 

Employ  the  countenance  and  grace  of  heaven, 

As  a  false  favourite  doth  his  prince's  name, 

In  deeds  dishonourable  ? 


AECH. 


Good,  my  lord  of  Lancaster, 
*  * 


I  sent  your  grace 

The  parcels  and  particulars  of  our  grief; 
The  wjiich  hath  been  with  scorn  shoved  from  the  court, 
Whereon  this  Hydra  son  of  war  is  born : 
Whose  dangerous  eyes  may  well  be  charm'd  asleep, 
With  grant  of  our  most  just  and  right  desires ; 
And  true  obedience  of  this  madness  cured, 
Stoop  tamely  to  the  foot  of  majesty. 

MOWB.       If  not,  we  ready  are  to  try  our  fortunes 
To  the  last  man. 

HAST.  And  though  we  here  fall  down, 

We  have  supplies  to  second  our  attempt ; 
If  they  miscarry,  theirs  shall  second  them ; 
And  so  success  of  mischief  shall  be  born, 
And  heir  from  heir  shall  hold  this  quarrel  up, 
Whiles  England  shall  have  generation. 

P.  JOHN.  You  are  too  shallow,  Hastings,  much  too  shallow, 
To  sound  the  bottom  of  the  after-times. 

WEST.       Pleaseth  your  grace,  to  answer  them  directly, 
How  far  forth  you  do  like  their  articles. 

P.  JOHN.  I  like  them  all,  and  do  allow  them  well : 

And  swear,  here,  by  the  honour  of  my  blood, 
My  father's  purposes  have  been  mistook  ; 
And  some  about  him  have  too  lavishly 
Wrested  his  meaning  and  authority. 
My  lordj  these  griefs  shall  be  with  speed  redress* A; 
"Upon  my  soul,  they  shall.     If  this  may  please  you, 
Discharge  your  powers  unto  their  several  counties, 
As  we  will  ours ;  and  here,  between  the  armies, 


"  Henry  IV."— Part  II.  203 

Let's  drink  together  friendly,  and  embrace, 

That  all  their  eyes  may  bear  those  tokens  home 

Of  our  restored  love  and  amity. 

ARCH.       I  take  your  princely  word  for  these  redresses. 
P.  JOHN.  I  give  it  you,  and  will  maintain  my  word : 

And  thereupon  I  drink  unto  your  grace. 
HAST.         Go,  captain  (to  an  officer],  and  deliver  to  the  army 

This  news  of  peace ;  let  them  have  pay,  and  part. 

I  know,  it  will  please  them ;  hie  thee,  captain.   {Exit  Officer. 
ARCH.       To  you,  my  noble  Lord  of  Westmoreland.  [Drinks. 

WEST.        I  pledge  your  grace:  {drinks']  and,  if  you  knew  what  pains 

I  have  bestow  'd  to  breed  this  present  peace, 

You  would  drink  freely  ;  but  my  love  to  you 

Shall  shoiv  itself  more  openly  hereafter. 
ARCH.       I  do  not  doubt  you. 
WEST.  I  am  glad  of  it- 

Health  to  my  lord,  and  gentle  cousin,  Mowhray.         [Drinks. 
MOWB.       You  wish  me  health  in  very  happy  season ; 

For  I  am,  on  the  sudden,  something  ill.  [Shouts  within. 

P.  JOHN.  The  word  of  peace  is  render 'd.     Hark,  how  they  shout ! 
MOWB.       This  had  been  cheerful,  after  victory. 
ARCH.       A  peace  is  of  the  nature  of  a  conquest, 

For  then  both  parties  nobly  are  subdued, 

And  neither  party  loser. 
P.  JOHN.  Go,  my  lord, 

And  let  our  army  be  discharged  too.    {Exit  WESTMORELAND. 

And  good,  my  lord  (to  the  Archbishop],  so  please  you,  let  your 
trains 

March  by  us,  that  we  may  peruse  the  men 

We  should  have  coped  withal. 
ARCH.  Go,  good  Lord  Hastings ; 

And,  ere  they  be  dismiss'd,  let  them  march  by. 

{Exit  HASTINGS. 

P.  JOHN.  I  trust,  lords,  we  shall  lie  to-night  together. 
Re-enter  WESTMORELAND. 

Now,  cousin,  wherefore  stands  our  army  still  ? 
WEST.       The  leaders  having  charge  from  you  to  stand, 

Will  not  go  off  until  they  hear  you  speak. 
P.  JOHN.  They  know  their  duties. 

Ee-enter  HASTINGS. 
HAST.        My  lord,  our  army  is  dispersed  already. 

Like  youthful  steers  unyoked,  they  take  their  cdurses 

East,  west,  north,  south ;  or,  like  a  school  broke  up, 

Each  hurries  towards  his  home  and  sporting-place. 
WEST.        Good  tidings,  my  Lord  Hastings;  for  the  which 

I  do  arrest  thee,  traitor,  of  high  treason : — 


204    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

And  you,  Lord  Archbishop, — and  you.  Lord  Mowbray  ; 

Of  capital  treason  I  attack  you  both. 
Mows.       Is  this  proceeding  just  and  honourable? 
WEST.       Is  your  assembly  so  ? 

•J  *s 

AKCH.        Will  you  thus  break  your  faith  ? 

P.  JOHN.  I  pawn  d  thee  none. 

I  promised  you  redress  of  these  same  grievances, 
Whereof  you  did  complain  ;  which,  by  mine  honour, 
I  will  perform  with  a  most  Christian  care. 
But,  for  you,  rebels,  look  to  taste  the  due 
Meet  for  rebellion,  and  such  acts  as  yours. 
Most  shallowly  did  you  these  arms  commence, 
Fondly  brought  here,  and  foolishly  sent  hence.— 
Strike  up  our  drums  !  pursue  the  scatter  d  stray; 
Heaven,  and  not  we,  hath  safely  fought  to-day. — 
Some  guard  these  traitors  to  the  block  of  death : 
Treasons  true  bed,  and yielder  up  of  breath. 

Upon  the  conclusion  of  this  treachery,  the  scene  passes  off 
without  a  word  of  censure  from  our  poet,  to  a  merry  interlude 
between  Falstaff  and  Sir  John  Coleville,  a  gentleman  whom  the 
fortunes  of  war  has  thrown  into  the  fat  knight's  hands.  While 
this  burlesque  is  going  on,  Prince  John,  Westmoreland,  and 
others,  yet  dripping  and  steaming  with  their  most  heinous  and 
unspeakable  atrocity,  come  in.  After  enjoying  the  fun,  West- 
moreland, who  had  temporarily  gone  out  to  order*  the  royal 
forces  to  desist  from  further  butchery,  re-enters,  and  Prince 
John  addresses  him :  — 

P.  JOHN.  Now,  have  you  left  pursuit  ? 

WEST.        Ketreat  is  made,  and  execution  stayd. 

P.  JOHN.  Send  Coleville,  with  his  confederates, 

To  York  to  present  execution : — 

Blunt,  lead  him  hence ;  and  see  you  guard  him  sure. 

\JExeunt  some  with  COLEVILLE. 

And  now  despatch  we  toward  the  court,  my  lords. 

The  good  King,  who  is  always  wishing  to  make  a  pious 
pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Land,  but  who  bargained  with  Sir 
Pierce  Exton  to  assassinate  King  Richard,  and  then  refused  to 
pay  him  for  the  deed,  receives  this  glorious  news  with  un- 
criticizing  joy,  and  is  ready  to  go  to  Jerusalem  again. 

I  think  the  above  recapitulation  fully  justifies  the  remark 
which  I  have  previously  made,  that  while  Shakespeare  has  infinite 
genius,  he  seems  too  often  to  be  devoid  of  moral  principle  and 
conscience. 


"  Henry  IV."— Part  II.  2O5 

There  are  but  few  other  lines  which  demand  our  attention  in 
this  play.  The  first  that  fits  our  theme  occurs  in  the 'induction, 
where  Rumour  says,— 

My  office  is 

To  noise  abroad, — that  Harry  Monmouth  fell 
Under  the  wrath  of  noble  Hotspur's  sword  ; 
And  that  the  king  before  the  Douglas'  rage 
Stoop'd  his  anointed  head  as  low  as  death. 
This  have  I  rumour'd  through  the  peasant  towns. 

Next  we  have,  in  Act  I.  Scene  3,  the  Archbishop  of  York, 
thus  delivering  his  opinion  of  the  people : — 

An  habitation  giddy  and  unsure 
Hath  he,  that  buildeth  on  the  vulgar  heart. 
O  thou  fond  many  !  with  that  loud  applause 
Didst  thou  beat  heaven  with  blessing  Bolingbroke, 
Before  he  was  what  thou  would'st  have  him  be  ? 
And  being  now  trimm'd  in  thine  own  desires, 
Thou,  beastly  feeder,  art  so  full  of  him, 
That  thou  provok'st  thyself  to  cast  him  up. 
So,  so,  thou  common  dog,  didst  thou  disgorge  - 
Thy  glutton  bosom  of  the  royal  Richard  ; 
And  now  thou  would'st  eat  thy  dead  vomit  up, 
And  howVst  to  find  it  ?    What  trust  is  in  these  times ! 
They  that,  when  Richard  lived,  would  have  him  die 
Are  now  become  enamour'd  on  his  grave  : 
Thou,  that  threw'st  dust  upon  his  goodly  head, 
When  through  proud  London  he  came  sighing  on 
After  the  admired  heels  of  Bolingbroke, 
Cry'st  now,  0  earth,  yield  us  that  king  again, 
And  take  thou  this !     O  thoughts  of  men  accurst ! 
Past,  and  to' come,  seems  best;  things  present,  worst.. 

In  Act  II.  Scene  4,  we  have  the  following  fling  at  a  Protestant 
clergyman,  through  the  mouth  of  the  not  very  reputable  Dame 
Quickly,  hostess  of  the  Boar's  Head  tavern  : — 

HOSTESS.  Tilly-fally,  Sir  John,  never  tell  me ;  your  ancient  swaggerer 
comes  not  in  my  doors.  I  was  before  Master  Tisick,  the  deputy,  the  other 
day ;  and,  as  he  said  to  me, — it  was  no  longer  ago  than  Wednesday  last, — 
Neighbour  Quickly,  says  he; — Master  Dumb,  our  minister,  was  by  then; 
Neighbour  Quickly,  says  he,  receive  those  that  are  civil ;  for,  saith  he,  you 
are  in  an  ill  name. 

I  have  but  few  observations  to  make  upon  these  earlier  illus- 
trations, but  I  cannot  resist  the  remark  that  the  theory  of  the 


206    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Baconians,  that  the  Lord  Chancellor  was  ashamed  to  acknow- 
ledge himself  as  the  author  of  the  Shakespeare  plays,  has  a  sort 
of  support  in  the  gross  immorality  and  vile  language  of  many 
portions  of  this  one.  For,  surely,  any  well-bred  gentleman  might 
well  be  ashamed  of  the  rank  brothel  wit  and  the  revolting  fecundity 
of  obscene  slang  which  characterize  the  earlier  scenes  of  this 
play,  in  which  Doll  Tear-Sheet  figures  with  Falstaff  and  Dame 
Quickly.  Actors  delivering  such  language  and  figuring  through 
such  scenes,  may  be  said  to  have  naturally  earned  the  epithets  of 
"  harlotry  players  "  and  of  "  vagabonds."  In  this  connexion,  I 
will  avail  myself  of  the  opportunity,  before  passing  from  the  Fal- 
staffian  plays,  of  calling  a  moment's  attention  to  the  puzzling 
character  of  Nym.  No  commentator  seems  to  have  been  able  to 
grasp,  or  to  comprehend  this  piece  of  vague  caprice,  and,  for  my 
own  part,  I  am  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  he  must  have  repre- 
sented the  local  caricature  of  some  well-known  person — some 
amorous  London  alderman,  perhaps — who  had  been  caught  in 
some  queer  scrape  and  possibly  extricated  himself  with  the  ex- 
clamation of  "  that's  the  humour  of  it ;"  the  repetition  of  which 
comical  expression  would  always  be  good,  with  a  local  audience, 
for  a  laugh.  Without  some  such  surmise  as  this,  Nym  must  pass 
with  most  persons  as  a  puzzle,  or,  at  best,  an  idiot. 

I  have  only  to  add,  in  passing  from  this  play,  that  the  legalisms 
exhibited  on  Shakespeare's  behalf  in  the  course  of  it  by  Lord 
Chief  Justice  Campbell,  do  not  call  for  any  special  attention. 


"Henry  V?  2O7 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


THE  date  of  the  production  of  this  play  is  fixed  at  1599  or  1600. 
It  is  the  opinion  of  some  that  Shakespeare  approached  the  subject 
of  Henry  V.  reluctantly,  in  consequence  of  its  paucity  of  domestic 
incident,  and  that  he  finally  undertook  it  only  because  he  felt 
obliged  to  keep  "  the  promise  made  at  the  close  of  the  Second 
Part  of e  King  Henry  IV./  to  the  effect  that  he  would  introduce 
the  wars  of  King  Henry  the  Fifth  upon  the  stage,  and  make  the 
audience  merry  with  fair  Catherine  of  France."  l  "  The  date  of 
the  authorship  of  the  play  is  shown  decisively,"  says  Hunter, 
"  to  have  been  in  1599,  by  the  poet's  allusion,  in  the  chorus  to 
the  fifth  act,  to  the  Earl  of  Essex's  campaign  in  Ireland,  and 
his  hoped-for  return,  which  took  place  in  September  of  that 
year : — 

As,  by  a  lower  but  by  loving  likelihood, 
Were  now  the  general  of  our  gracious  empress 
(As,  in  good  time,  he  may),  from  Ireland  coming, 
Bringing  rebellion  broached  on  his  sword, 
How  many  would  the  peaceful  city  quit, 
To  welcome  him  ? 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt,"  remarks  Kenny,  "  that  these  lines 
refer  to  the  expedition  of  the  Earl  of  Essex  to  Ireland,"  adding 
that  it  was  very  likely  "  Shakespeare  was  the  more  disposed  to 
indulge  in  this  kindly  allusion,  from  the  fact  that  his  own  special 
patron,  the  Earl  of  Southampton,  served  in  the  expedition  as 
Master  of  the  Horse." "  It  is  worthy  of  observation  here,  that 

1  "  Studies  and  Writings  of  Shakespeare,"  by  Joseph  Hunter,  vol.  ii.  p. 
58.   London,  1845. 

2  "  Life  and  Genius  of  Shakespeare,"  bv  Thomas  Kenny,  p.  241.     London, 
1864. 


208    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Hunter,  in  his  notice  of  "  Henry  V.,"  remarks,  that "  the  name  of 
Fluellin,  given  to  the  Welsh  soldier  in  this  play,  was  probably 
taken  from  the  name  of  William  Fluellin,  who  was  buried  at 
Stratford,  July  9,  1595  ;"  a  fact  which  works  to  the  support  of 
the  Stratford  authorship  of  the  Shakespearian  plays.  Schlegel, 
in  speaking  of  King  Henry  V.,  says,  it  is  doubtful  if  Shakespeare 
ever  would  have  written  the  play  of (<  Henry  V."  "  had  not  the 
stage  previously  possessed  it  in  the  old  play  of  '  The  Famous 
Victories/  because  Henry  IV.  would  have  been  perfect  as  a 
dramatic  whole,  without  the  addition  of  f  Henry  V. ; '  but,"  adds 
he,  "  having  brought  the  history  of  Henry  of  Monmouth  up  to 
the  period  of  his  father's  death,  the  demands  of  an  audience 
which  had  been  accustomed  to  hail  the  madcap  Prince  of  Wales 
as  the  conqueror  of  Agincourt,  compelled  him  to  continue  the 
story."  Knight  does  not  think  Shakespeare  would  have  chosen 
the  subject  of  Henry  V.  for  a  drama,  "  for,"  says  he,  "  as  skil- 
fully as  he  has  managed  it,  and  magnificent  as  the  whole  drama 
is  as  a  great  national  song  of  triumph,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  Shakespeare  felt  that  in  this  play  he  was  dealing  with  a 
theme  too  narrow  for  his  peculiar  powers  .  .  .  the  subject  being 
altogether  one  of  lyric  grandeur.  .  .  .  And  yet,  how  exquisitely 
has  Shakespeare  thrown  his  dramatic  power  into  this  undramatic 
subject.  The  character  of  the  King  is  one  of  the  most  finished 
portraits  that  has  proceeded  from  his  master  hand.  ...  It  was 
for  him  to  embody  in  the  person  of  Henry  V.  the  principle  of 
national  heroism;  it  was  for  him  to  call  forth  the  spirit  of 
patriotic  reminiscence." 

Upon  this  feature  of  the  character  of  Shakespeare,  Gervinius 
is  not  so  enthusiastic  as  the  English  commentator.  lie  thinks 
Shakespeare  would  have  done  better  if  he  had  not  fallen  too 
easily  into  the  weakness  of  the  age  for  boasting  : — 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  he  says, "  more  than  probable  that  a  jealous 
patriotic  feeling  actuated  our  poet  in  the  entire  representation  of 
his  Prince  Henry ;  the  intention,  namely,  of  exhibiting  by  the 
side  of  his  brilliant  contemporary,  Henry  IV.  of  France,  a  Henry 
upon  the  English  throne  equal  to  him  in  greatness  and  origi- 
nality. The  greatness  of  his  hero,  however,  would  appear  still 
more  estimable  if  his  enemies  were  depicted  as  less  inestimable.  It 
alone  belonged  to  the  ancients  to  honour  even  their  enemies. 
Homer  exhibits  no  depreciation  of  the  Trojans,  and  ^Eschylus  no 


"Henry  V."  209 

trace  of  contempt  of  the  Persians,  even  when  he  delineates  their 
impiety  and  rebukes  it.  In  this  there  lies  a  large-hearted 
equality  of  estimation,  and  a  nobleness  of  mind,  far  surpassing 
in  practical  morality,  many  subtle  Christian  theories  of  brotherly 
love.  That  Shakespeare  distorts  the  French  antagonists,  and 
could  not  even  get  rid  of  his  Virgil-taught  hatred  against  the 
Greeks,  is  one  of  the  few  traits  which  we  would  rather  not  see  in 
his  works ;  it  is  a  national  narrow-mindedness  With  which  the 
Briton  gained  ground  over  the  man.  The  nations  of  antiquity, 
who  bore  a  far  stronger  stamp  of  nationality  than  any  modern 
people,  were  strangers  to  this  intolerant  national  pride/' 

Kenny,  in  treating  upon  the  view  which  Shakespeare's  por- 
trait of  Henry  V.  gives  us  of  the  poet's  own  character,  says, — 

"  We  do  not  know  any  other  work  of  his  in  which  his  national 
or  personal  predilections  have  made  themselves  so  distinctly 

visible A  large  portion  of  the  story  has  to  be  told,  or 

merely  indicated,  by  the  choruses,  in  which  the  poet  himself  has 
to  appear  and  to  confess  the  inability  of  his  art  to  reproduce  the 
march  and  shock  of  armies,  and,  above  all,  the  great  scene  on  the 
field  of  Agincourt. 

"Some  of  the  modern  continental  critics,"  continues  this 
shrewd  observer,  "  think  they  can  see  that  not  only  was  Henry  V. 
Shakespeare's  favourite  hero,  but  that  this  is  the  character, 
in  all  the  poet's  dramas,  which  he  himself  most  nearly  resembled. 
Many  people  will,  perhaps,  hardly  be  able  to  refrain  from  a 
smile  on  hearing  of  this  conjecture.  We  certainly  cannot  see  the 
slightest  ground  for  its  adoption.  The  whole  history  of  Shake- 
speare's life,  and  the  whole  cast  of  Shakespeare's  genius,  are 
opposed  to  this  extravagant  supposition.  We  have  no  doubt 
that  the  poet  readily  sympathized  with  the  frank  and  gallant 
bearing  of  the  king.  But  we  find  no  indication  in  all  that  we 
know  of  his  temperament,  or  of  the  impression  which  he  produced 
upon  his  contemporaries,  of  that  firm,  rigid,  self-concentrated 
personality  which  distinguishes  the  born  masters  of  mankind. 

"  Henry  V.  was  necessarily  peremptory,  designing,  unwaver- 
ing, energetic,  and  self-willed ;  Shakespeare  was  flexible,  change- 
ful, meditative,  sceptical,  and  self -distrustful.  This  was  clearly  the 
temperament  of  the  author  of  the  sonnets ;  it  was  too,  we  believe, 
not  less  clearly  the  character  of  the  wonderful  observer  and 
delineator  of  all  the  phases  of  both  tragic  and  comic  passion  : 


2  io    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

and  it  was,  perhaps,  in  no  small  degree,  through  the  very  variety 
of  his  emotional  and  imaginative  sensibility,  and  the  very  absence 
of  that  completeness  and  steadfastness  of  nature  which  his  in- 
judicious admirers  now  claim  for  him,  that  he  was  enabled  to 
become  the  great  dramatic  poet  of  the  world/" 

I  quote  this  latter  paragraph  with  satisfaction,  because  it 
agrees  in  its  conception  of  Shakespeare's  personal  character  with 
that  which  was  expressed  by  me,  in  Chapter  XXI.,  before  I 
had  met  with  these  remarks  of  Mr.  Kenny. 

Let  me  say  here,  that  I  give  all  of  the  foregoing  observations 
to  such  large  extent,  because  they  indicate,  to  my  comprehension, 
the  vagrant  and  adaptable  imagination  of  the  playright,  rather 
than  the  philosophical  and  scholarly  responsibility  of  Bacon. 

The  first  thing  which  attracts  attention  in  the  text  of  "  Henry 
V.,"  as  bearing  upon  the  points  of  our  inquiry,  are  the  four  open- 
ing lines  in  the  chorus  : — 

0  for  a  muse  of  fire,  that  would  ascend 
The  brightest  heaven  of  invention  ! 
A  kingdom  for  a  stage,  princes  to  act, 
And  monarchs  to  behold  the  sioelling  scene  ! 

The  next  occurs  in  the  first  scene  of  the  first  act,  and  exhibits 
our  poet's  predisposition  to  express  himself  reverently  when 
referring  to  the  Catholic  religion  : — 

For  all  the  temporal  lands,  which  men  devout 
By  testament  have  given  to  the  church. 

Again : — 

The  king  is  full  of  grace  and  fair  regard, 
And  a  true  lover  of  the  holy  church. 

The  above  two  words,  "  devout "  and  "  holy/'  could  have  been 
easily  supplied  by  other  equally  descriptive  terms ;  but  inasmuch 
as  Shakespeare  always  selects  religious  adjectives  after  this 
solemn  and  reverential  fashion,  they  seem  to  be  spontaneous 
evidences  of  settled  Romanism.  I  think  it  is  fair  to  conclude 
that  no  rigid  Protestant,  like  Bacon,  would  invariably  refer  to 
the  Catholic  Church  in  this  worshipful  and  bending  way. 

In  Scene  2  of  the  same  act  we  have  an  intricate  and  learned 
exposition  of  the  Salique  law  of  France.  It  is  given  as  a  part  of 
an  abstruse  legal  digest  of  title  for  Henry  as  the  lawful  King  of 
France,  and  is  so  technical  that  it  is  impossible  to  resist  the 


"Henry  V"  211 

conclusion  that  Shakespeare  must  have  ordered  the  statement 
from  some  lawyer  for  his  purposes ;  and  it  is  not  impossible  he 
begged  it  from  Lord  Bacon.  It  is  a  little  singular  that  Lord 
Chief  Justice  Campbell  should  have  utterly  passed  by  this  most 
conspicuous  of  all  the  evidences  of  law  learning  which  the  plays 
contain.  Lord  Campbell  must  have  recognized  this  as  an  out- 
side law  exploit  on  the  part  of  our  poet,  and  probably  thought  it 
prudent  to  take  no  notice  of  it,  inasmuch  as  it  might  impair  his 
own  previous  arguments.  It  may  be  remarked,  on  the  other 
side,  that  Shakespeare  took  it  almost  bodily  from  Holinshed,  the 
historian ;  but  that  argument  none  the  less  affects  the  position 
of  Lord  Campbell,  for  if  Shakespeare  could  utilize  as  much  law 
learning  as  this,  from  the  pages  of  the  old  chronicler,  the  field 
for  his  smaller  scraps  of  legal  phrase  was  obviously  easier  to 
work. 

The  main  action  of  "  Henry  V."  consists  in  the  invasion  of 
France  with  thirty  thousand  men,  twenty-four  thousand  of 
whom  were  foot  soldiers,  and  six  thousand  horse.  The  em- 
barkation of  these  forces  was  made  from  Southampton,  in  fifteen 
hundred  ships,  on  the  llth  of  August,  1415,  and  the  whole  were 
landed  on  the  coast  of  France  on  the  second  day  afterward.  The 
first  exploit  of  this  army  was  to  lay  siege  to  Harfleur,  for,  in 
those  days  of  pikes  and  cross-bows,  prudent  commanders  never 
ventured  to  advance  into  an  enemy's  country  with  walled  towns 
behind  them.  The  place  surrendered  on  the  22nd  of  September, 
after  a  siege  of  thirty-six  days,  when  Henry,  finding  that  two- 
thirds  of  his  force  had  perished  by  battle  and  by  the  ravages  of 
a  frightful  dysentery,  determined  to  fall  back  on  Calais,  and 
abandon  his  expedition.  For  the  performance  of  this  movement 
the  English  chroniclers  say  that  the  army  remaining  to  him  did 
not  amount  to  more  than  eight  thousand  fighting  men  in  all.3 
Before  leaving  Harfleur,  however,  we  find  King  Henry  thus 
invoking  the  devoted  remnant  of  his  troops  to  the  assault : — 

K".  HEN.  Once  more  unto  the  breach,  dear  friends,  once  more ; 
Or  close  the  wall  up  with  our  English  dead ! 
*  *  * 

Now  set  the  teeth,  and  stretch  the  nostril  wide, 
Hold  hard  the  breath,  and  bend  up  every  spirit 

3  Knight,  vol.  iii.,  p.  574,  Appleton's  New  York  edition. 


212    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

To  his  full  height ! — On,  on,  you  noblest  English, 

Whose  blood  is  f et  from  fathers  of  war  proof  ? 

Fathers,  that,  like  so  many  Alexanders, 

Have,  in  these  parts,  from  morn  till  even  fought, 

And  sheath'd  their  swords  for  lack  of  argument. 

Dishonour  not  your  mothers ;  now  attest, 

That  those,  whom  you  call'd  fathers,  did  beget  you  ; 

Be  copy  now  to  men  of  grosser  blood, 

And  teach  Mm  how  to  war ! — And  you,  good  yeomen, 

Whose  limbs  were  made  in  England,  show  us  here, 

The  mettle  of  your  pasture  ;  let  us  swear 

That  you  are  worth  your  breeding :  which  I  doubt  not ; 

For  there  is  none  of  you  so  mean  and  base, 

That  hath  not  noble  lustre  in  your  eyes. 

I  see  you  stand  like  greyhounds  in  the  slips, 

Straining  upon  the  start.     The  game's  afoot ; 

Follow  your  spirit :  and,  upon  this  charge, 

Cry — God  for  Harry !  England  !  and  Saint  George  ! 

There  can  scarcely  be  a  wider  distinction  drawn  between  the 
merits  of  two  classes  of  men  than  is  here  given  for  the  nobles 
against  the  rank  and  file;  and  we  can  see  how  Shakespeare 
holds  mere  soldiers  in  his  estimation,  by  the  following  reference 
to  them,  immediately  afterward,  when  Henry  sent  his  last 
summons  to  the  Governor  of  Harfleur,  to  surrender : — 

K.  HEN.    If  I  begin  the  battery  once  again, 

I  will  not  leave  the  half-achieved  Harfleur, 

Till  in  her  ashes  she  lie  buried. 

The  gates  of  mercy  shall  be  all  shut  up ; 

And  the  flesh' d  soldier, — rough  and  hard  of  heart, — 

In  liberty  of  bloody  hand,  shall  range 

With  conscience  wide  as  hell ;  mowing  like  grass 

Your  fresh  fair  virgins  and  your  flowering  infants. 

What  is  it  then  to  me,  if  impious  war, — 

Array 'd  in  flames,  like  to  the  prince  of  fiends, — 

Do,  with  his  smirch 'd  complexion,  all  fell  feats 

Enlink'd  to  waste  and  desolation  ? 

What  is't  to  me,  when  you  yourselves  are  cause, 

If  your  pure  maidens  fall  into  the  hand 

Of  hot  and  forcing  violation  ? 

What  rein  can  hold  licentious  wickedness, 

When  down  the  hill  he  holds  his  fierce  career  ? 

We  may  as  bootless  spend  our  vain  command 

Upon  the  enraged  soldiers  in  their  spoil, 

As  send  precepts  to  the  Leviathan 

To  come  ashore.    Therefore,  you  men  of  Harfleur, 


"Henry  V"  213 

Take  pity  of  your  town,  and  of  your  people, 

Whiles  yet  my  soldiers  are  in  my  command  ; 

Whiles  yet  the  cool  and  temperate  wind  of  grace 

O'erblows  the  filthy  and  contagious  clouds 

Of  deadly  murder,  spoil,  and  villany. 

If  not,  why,  in  a  moment,  look  to  see 

The  blind  and  bloody  soldier  with  foul  hand 

Defile  the  locks  of  your  shrill-shrieking  daughters  ; 

Your  fathers  taken  by  the  silver  beards, 

And  their  most  reverend  heads  dash'd  to  the  walls, 

Your  naked  infants  spitted  upon  pikes  ; 

Whiles  the  mad  mothers  with  their  howls  confused 

Do  break  the  clouds,  as  did  the  wives  of  Jewry 

At  Herod's  bloody-hunting  slaughtermen. 

At  this  terrific  threat  the  town  surrenders. 

In  a  few  days  after  the  surrender,  the  king  is  about  to  take  his 
greatly-diminished  force,  now  reduced  to  certainly  less  than  9000 
men,  to  Calais ;  but,  on  the  point  of  this  retreat,  he  is  intercepted 
by  the  arrival  of  Montjoy,  a  herald,  who  brings  from  the  French 
king  a  peremptory  summons  to  surrender.  Henry,  after  listening 
with  patience,  thus  replies  : — 

K.  HEN.    Thou  dost  thy  office  fairly.     Turn  thee  back, 
And  tell  thy  king — I  do  not  seek  him  now ; 
But  could  be  willing  to  march  on  to  Calais 
Without  impeachment ;  for,  to  say  the  sooth, 
(Though  'tis  no  wisdom  to  confess  so  much 
Unto  an  enemy  of  craft  and  vantage), 
My  people  are  with  sickness  much  enfeebled ; 
My  numbers  lessen'd  ;  and  those  few  I  have, 
Almost  no  better  than  so  many  French ; 
Who,  when  they  were  in  health,  I  tell  thee,  herald, 
I  thought,  upon  one  pair  of  English  legs 
Did  march  three  Frenchmen. 

*  *  * 

The  sum  of  all  our  answer  is  but  this : 
We  would  not  seek  a  battle,  as  we  are ; 
Nor  as  we  are,  we  say,  we  will  not  shun  it ; 
So  tell  your  master. 

In  Act  IV.  Scene  1,  we  have  Pistol  interrogating  King  Henry, 
while  the  latter  is  walking  about  the  camp  in  disguise,  during 
the  night  before  the  battle  of  Agincourt : — 

PISTOL.    Discuss  unto  me ;  art  thou  officer  ? 

Or  art  thou  base,  common,  and  popular  ? 
KING.      I  am  a  gentleman  of  a  company. 
15 


214  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

After  a  while  the  king  is  left  alone,  when,  surveying-  in  his 
mind  the  dangers  of  the  morrow,  the  labours  and  responsibilities, 
the  suffering  and  the  wakefulness  which  he  is  obliged  to  undergo, 
he  indulges  in  the  following  fit  of  the  blues  : — 

And  what  have  kings,  that  privates  have  not  too, 
Save  ceremony,  save  general  ceremony  ? 
And  what  art  thou,  thou  idol  ceremony  ? 
What  kind  of  god  art  thou,  that  suffer'st  more 
Of  mortal  griefs,  than  do  thy  worshippers  ? 
What  are  thy  rents  ?  what  are  thy  comings -in  ? 

0  ceremony,  show  me  but  thy  worth  1 
What  is  the  soul  of  adoration  ? 

Art  thou  aught  else  but  place,  degree,  and  form, 

Creating  awe  and  fear  in  other  men  ? 

Wherein  thou  art  less  happy  being  fear'd 

Than  they  in  fearing. 

What  drink'st  thou  oft,  instead  of  homage  sweet, 

But  poison'd  flattery  ?     0,  be  sick,  great  greatness, 

And  bid  thy  ceremony  give  thee  cure ! 

Think'st  thou,  the  fiery  fever  will  go  out 

With  titles  blown  from  adulation  ? 

Will  it  give  place  to  flexure  and  low  bending  ? 

Canst  thou,  when  thou  command'st  the  beggar's  knee, 

Command  the  health  of  it  ?    No,  thou  proud  dream, 

That  play'st  so  subtly  with  a  king's  repose ; 

1  am  a  king  that  find  thee ;  and  I  know, 
'Tis  not  the  balm,  the  sceptre,  and  the  ball, 
The  sword,  the  mace,  the  crown  imperial, 
The  inter- tissued  robe  of  gold  and  pearl, 
The  farced  title  running  'fore  the  king, 
The  throne  he  sits  on,  nor  the  tide  of  pomp 
That  beats  upon  the  high  shore  of  this  world, 
No,  not  all  these,  thrice-gorgeous  ceremony, 
Not  all  these,  laid  in  bed  majestical, 

Can  sleep  so  soundly  as  the  wretched  slave  ; 

Who,  with  a  body  fill'd,  and  vacant  mind, 

Gets  him  to  rest,  cramm'd  with  distressful  bread ; 

Never  sees  horrid  night,  the  child  of  hell ; 

But,  like  a  lackey,  from  the  rise  to  set, 

Sweats  in  the  eye  of  Phoebus,  and  all  night 

Sleeps  in  Elysium  ;  next  day,  after  dawn, 

Doth  rise,  and  help  Hyperion  to  his  horse ; 

And  follows  so  the  ever-running  year 

With  profitable  labour,  to  his  grave : 

And,  but  for  ceremony,  such  a  wretch, 

Winding  up  days  with  toil,  and  nights  with  sleep, 


"Henry  V."  215 

Had  the  fore-hand  and  vantage  of  a  king. 
TJie  slave,  a  member  of  the  country's  peace, 
Enjoys  it ;  but  in  gross  brain  little  wots 
What  watch  the  king  keeps  to  maintain  the  peace, 
Whose  hours  the  peasant  best  advantages. 

This  gloomy  dissertation  upon  the  animal  advantages  of  being 
a  vacant-minded,  wretched  slave,  who,  crammed  with  food,  sleeps 
sound  and  rises  in  the  morning  only  too  happy  to  help  his  lordship 
to  his  horse,  is  naturally  followed  by  a  religious  fit,  in  which  his 
majesty  continues  : — 

0  God  of  battles  !  steel  my  soldiers'  hearts  ! 
Possess  them  not  with  fear ;  take  from  them  now 
The  sense  of  reckoning,  if  the  opposed  numbers 
Pluck  their  hearts  from  them  ! — Not  to-day,  0  Lord, 

0  not  to-day,  think  not  upon  the  fault 
My  father  made  in  compassing  the  crown ! 

1  Richard's  body  have  interr'd  new  ; 

And  on  it  have  bestow'd  more  contrite  tears, 
Than  from  it  issued  forced  drops  of  blood. 
Five  hundred  poor  I  have  in  yearly  pay, 
Who  twice  a  day  their  wither  d  hands  hold  up 
Towards  heaven,  to  pardon  blood;  and  I  have  built 
Two  chantries,  where  the  sad  and  solemn  priests 
Sing  still  for  Richard's  soul.     More  will  I  do  :, 
Though  all  that  I  can  do,  is  nothing  worth ; 
Since  that  my  penitence  comes  after  all, 
Imploring  pardon. 

And  we  shall  presently  see  that,  under  our  poet's  patronage,  this 
pious  penitence  pays  a  rich  percentage.  But  here  let  me  pause 
a  moment  to  remark,  that  it  seems  impossible  the  adorable 
picture  presented  in  the  reverential  lines — 

Two  chantries,  where  the  sad  and  solemn  priests 
Sing  still  for  Richard's  soul — 

could  have  spontaneously  formed  itself  in  the  mind  of  any  Pro- 
testant writer  of  the  Elizabethan  period  of  religious  prejudice 
and  persecution. 

But  the  battle  of  Agincourt  is  approaching,  and  Shakespeare 
thus  presents  the  contrasted  condition  and  numbers  of  the  com- 
batants. 

We  take  the  statement  as  the  poet  gives  it  first  from  the 
French  camp : — 


216   Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Act  IV.  Scene  2. — The  French  Camp. 
Present— The  DAUPHIN,  OELEANS,  EAMBUEES,  and  others. 

Enter  CONSTABLE. 

CON.  To  horse,  you  gallant  princes  !  straight  to  horse  ! 
Do  but  behold  yon  poor  and  starved  band, 
And  your  fair  show  shall  suck  away  their  souls, 
Leaving  them  but  the  shades  and  husks  of  men. 
There  is  not  work  enough  for  all  our  hands ; 
Scarce  blood  enough  in  all  their  sickly  veins, 
To  give  each  naked  curtle-ax  a  stain, 
That  our  French  gallants  shall  to-day  draw  out, 
And  sheath  for  lack  of  sport ;  let  us  but  blow  on  them, 
The  vapour  of  our  valour  will  o'erturn  them. 
'Tis  positive  'gainst  all  exceptions,  lords, 
That  our  superfluous  lackeys  and  our  peasants, — 
Who,  in  unnecessary  action,  swarm 
About  our  squares  of  battle, — were  enough 
To  purge  this  field  of  such  a  hildingfoe : 
Though  we,  upon  this  mountain's  basis  by, 
Took  stand  for  idle  speculation  : 
But  that  our  honours  must  not.    What's  to  say  ? 
A  very  little  little  let  us  do, 
And  all  is  done.    Then,  let  the  trumpets  sound 
The  tucket  sonnance,  and  the  note  to  mount : 
For  our  approach  shall  so  much  dare  the  field, 
TJiat  England  shall  couch  down  in  fear  and  yield. 

Enter  GEANDPEE. 

GEAND.  Why  do  you  stay  so  long,  my  lords  of  France, 
Yon  island  carrions,  desperate  of  their  bones, 
Ill-favouredly  become  the  morning  field : 
Their  ragged  curtains  poorly  are  let  loose, 
And  our  air  shakes  them  passing  scornfully. 
Big  Mars  seems  bankrupt  in  their  beggar  d  host, 
And  faintly  through  a  rusty  beaver  peeps, 
Their  horsemen  sit  like  fixed  candlesticks, 
With  torch  staves  in  their  hands :  and  their  poor  jades 
Lob  down  their  heads,  dropping  the  hides  and  hips  ; 
The  gum  down-roping  from  their  pale  dead  eyes  ; 
And  in  their  pale  dull  mouths  the  gimmal  bit 
Lies  foul  with  chewed  grass,  still  and  motionless  ; 
And  their  executors,  the  knavish  crows, 
Fly  o'er  them  all,  impatient  for  their  hour. 

The  scene  now  shifts  to  the  English  camp. 

Act  IY.  Scene  3. 

Enter  the  English  Army,  GLOSTEE,  BEDFOBD,  EXETEB,  SALISBUET,  and 
WESTMOEELAND. 


"Henry  V"  217 

GLOSTEE.  Where  is  the  king  ? 

BEDFOKD.  The  king  himself  is  rode  to  view  their  battle. 
WESTMORELAND.     Of  fighting  men  they  have/w^  three  score  thousand. 
EXETEE.  There's  Jive  to  one  ;  besides,  they  are  all  fresh. 
SALISBURY.  God's  arm  strike  with  us !  'tis  a  fearful  odds. 

This  brings  us  to  the  battle.  The  conflict  is  in  favour  of  King 
Henry  from  the  first,,  but  it  rages  with  such  violence,  and  the 
English  are  so  wearied,  even  by  the  weight  of  their  success,  that 
in  the  midst  of  it  Henry  issues  the  order  that  every  soldier  kill 
his  prisoners. 

KING.  The  French  have  reinforced  their  scatter'd  men : 
Then  every  soldier  kill  his  prisoners  ; 
Give  the  word  through  ! 

One  of  the  English  historians,  Sir  H.  Nicolas,  thus  alludes  to 
the  battle : — 

"  The  immense  number  of  the  French  proved  their  ruin.  .  .  . 
The  battle  lasted  three  hours.  The  English  stood  on  heaps  of 
corpses  which  exceeded  a  man's  height.  The  French,  indeed,  fell 
almost  passive  in  their  lines.  .  .  .  The  total  loss  of  the  French 
was  about  10,000  slain  on  the  field;  that  of  the  English  appears 
to  have  been  about  twelve  hundred.  .  .  .  The  English  king  con- 
ducted himself  with  his  accustomed  dignity  to  his  many  illus- 
trious prisoners.  The  victorious  army  marched  to  Calais  in  fine 
order,  and  embarked  for  England  (on  the  17th  of  November) 
without  any  attempt  to  follow  up  their  victory." 

The  following  is  Shakespeare's  account  of  the  result : — • 

Act  IY.  Scene  8. 
Enter  an  English  Herald. 

K.  HEN.  Now,  Herald;  are  the  dead  number'd? 

HEB.        Here  is  the  number  of  the  slaughter'd  French. 

[Delivers  a  paper. 

K.  HEN.  What  prisoners  of  good  sort  are  taken,  uncle  ? 

EXETER.  Charles  duke  of  Orleans,  nephew  to  the  king ; 

John  duke  of  Bourbon,  and  the  lord  Bouciqunlt : 
Of  other  lords,  and  barons,  knights,  and  'squires, 
Full  fifteen  hundred,  besides  common  men. 

K.  HEN.  This  note  doth  tell  me  of  ten  thousand  French, 

That  in  the  field  lie  slain :  of  princes,  in  this  number, 
And  nobles  bearing  banners,  there  lie  dead 
One  hundred  and  twenty-six :  added  to  these, 
Of  knights,  esquires,  and  gallant  gentlemen, 


2i8  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Eight  thousand  and  four  hundred  ;  of  the  which, 

Five  hundred  were  hut  yesterday  dubb'd  knights : 

So  that,  in  these  ten  thousand  they  have  lost, 

There  are  hut  sixteen  hundred  mercenaries  ; 

The  rest  are— princes,  barons,  lords,  knights,  'squires, 

And  gentlemen  of  blood  and  quality. 

*  *  # 

Here  was  a  royal  fellowship  of  death  ! — 

Where  is  the  number  of  our  English  dead  ? 

[Herald  presents  another  paper. 

Edward  the  duke  of  York,  the  earl  of  Suffolk, 

Sir  Richard  Ketly,  Davy  Gam,  esquire  : 

None  else  of  name ;  and  of  all  other  men, 

But  five  and  twenty.     0  God,  thy  arm  was  here, 

And  not  to  us,  hut  to  thy  arm  alone, 

Ascribe  we  all ! — When,  without  stratagem, 

But  in  plain  shock,  and  even  play  of  battle, 

Was  ever  known  so  great  and  little  loss, 

On  one  part  and  on  the  other  ? — Take  it,  God, 

For  it  is  only  thine  ! 

EXETEB.  'Tis  wonderful ! 

K.  HEN.  Come,  go  we  in  procession  to  the  village  : 

And  be  it  death  proclaimed  through  our  host, 

To  boast  of  this,  or  take  that  praise  from  God, 

Which  is  his  only. 

*  •,  • 

K.  HEN.  Do  we  all  holy  rites  ; 

Let  there  be  sung  Non  Nobis,  and  Te  Deum. 
The  dead  with  charity  enclosed  in  clay, 
We'll  then  to  Calais ;  and  to  England  then, 
Where  ne'er  from  France  arrived  more  happy  men. 

Here  we  have,  according  to  Shakespeare,  the  loss  of  only 
twenty-nine  men  to  the  English,  nobles  and  all,  during  three  hours' 
hard  fighting,  against  the  slaughter  of  ten  thousand  French  !  A 
result  manufactured  for  the  play-house  by  a  playwright  who  was 
catering  to  audiences,  as  the  playwrights  of  to-day  cater  for  the 
uproarious  swarms  of  the  Surrey  Theatre  in  London,  the  Porte 
St.  Martin  in  Paris,  or  the  Bowery  Theatre  in  New  York ;  cater- 
ing, however,  only  for  their  shouts  and  shillings — which  Shake- 
speare knew  how  to  do — and  not  for  their  sensible  and  historical 
appreciation,  as  would  have  been  the  aim  of  a  rigid  philosopher 
like  Bacon. 

One  incident  occurred  at  the  end  of  the  battle,  in  Scene  7, 
which,  though  we  have  passed  it  in  the  course  of  our  narrative, 


"Henry  V?  219 

must  not  be  overlooked.  The  French  herald  enters  and  asks  of 
Henry  the  usual  privilege  to  go  over  the  field  and  sort  out  the 
dead.  The  following  is  his  language  : — 

MONTJOT.  Great  king, 

I  come  to  thee  for  charitable  licence, 
That  we  may  wander  o'er  this  bloody  field, 
To  book  our  dead,  and  then  to  bury  them ; 
To  sort  our  nobles  from  our  common  men; 
For  many  of  our  princes  (woe  the  while!) 
Lie  drown' d  and  soaJc'd  in  mercenary  blood  ; 
(So  do  our  vulgar  drench  their  peasant  limbs 
In  blood  of  princes). 

It  seems  to  me  that  had  the  author  of  these  lines  possessed  but 
one  grain  of  true  consideration  for  his  kind,  he  might  have  con- 
structed the  above  abominable  paragraph  somewhat  after  the 
following  fashion : — 

That  we  may  wander  o'er  the  bloody  field, 
To  gather  up  our  dear  heroic  dead, 
Who,  whether  nobly  or  obscurely  born, 
Have,  by  thus  dying  in  their  country's  cause, 
Earn'd  equal  knighthood  at  the  court  of  Heaven. 


220  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


THIS  play,  and  its  two  succeeding  branches,  known  as  Parts 
II.  and  III.,  though  later  in  their  chronology  than  "King  John" 
and  those  plays  which  follow  in  order  up  to  "  Henry  V.,"  were 
undoubtedly  written  in  advance  of  all  the  English  historical 
series ;  and,  while  the  authorship  by  Shakespeare  of  the  First 
Part,  or  the  fact  of  his  having  had  any  hand  in  it  whatever,  has 
been  very  seriously  disputed,  I  shall  accept  its  authenticity  for  the 
purposes  of  this  inquiry,  without  entering  into  the  discussion. 
The  play  comes  to  us  in  the  regular  and  authorized  edition  of 
Shakespeare's  dramatic  works,  and  this  is  sufficient  warrant  for  us 
to  proceed  as  if  the  origin  of  its  text  never  had  been  questioned. 
Indeed,  so  much  has  been  written  in  the  dispute,  and  there  is 
still  so  much  left  to  dispute  about,  that,  by  touching  it  at  all,  I 
fear  I  should  only  add  to  the  confusion  of  the  reader.  All  the 
commentators  agree,  however,  that  if  Shakespeare  was  the  author 
of  the  First  Part  of  "  Henry  VI.,"  it  must  have  been  among  the 
earliest  efforts  of  his  genius.  The  other  English  historical 
dramas  ascribed  to  him,  and  running  up  to  "  Henry  V.,"  were  all 
finished  subsequently  to  1593.  "  Henry  VI.,"  Part  I.,  was  cer- 
tainly written  previous  to  1592,  while  Hunter  and  some  others 
credit  its  production  to  as  early  a  period  as  1587. 

The  character  of  King  Henry  VI.  is  that  of  a  weak,  variable, 
puling  saint,  who,  had  he  been  a  man,  might  have  saved  to 
England  the  conquests  of  his  father,  and  prevented  the  House  of 
Lancaster  from  falling  before  the  bolder  sword  of  York.  With 
this  mere  glimpse  at  the  defective  character  of  such  a  singular 
production  of  a  warrior  sire,  I  will  proceed  to  the  illustrations 
from  the  First  Part,  which  support  especial  portions  of  our 
theme. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  in  the  course  of  the  examination 
which  arose  in  the  earlier  portion  of  this  work,  on  the  subject  of 


"  King  Henry  VI." — Part  I.  221 

the  religious  faith  of  our. poet,  liberal  illustrations  were  given 
from  the  text  of  several  of  the  plays.  Among  these  were 
extracts  of  considerable  length  from  the  play  before  us,  all  going 
to  show  the  spontaneity  of  Shakespeare's  catholic  sentiments  and 
predilections.  To  avoid  repetition,  therefore,  I  will  now  simply 
refer  the  reader  back  to  pages  58,  59,  60  and  61,  as  portions  of 
this  chapter. 

As  we  follow  the  pomp  and  pageantry  of  these  dramatic 
histories,  awed  or  intoxicated  by  the  swelling  imagery  which 
invites  our  homage  to  the  kings  and  nobles  who  are  the  darlings 
of  our  poet's  soul,  we  naturally  look  now  and  then  for  courage 
or  worthiness  in  some  humbler  characters,  upon  whom  our  poet 
might  condescend  to  bestow  a  portion  of  his  beneficient  considera- 
tion. But  we  constantly  look  in  vain;  for  William  Shakespeare 
takes  not  the  slightest  respectful  interest  in  anything  below 
the  status  of  a  knight.  On  the  contrary,  he  usually  prefers  to 
elevate  his  aristocratic  pets  by  the  mean  process  of  degrading 
every  character  not  possessed  of  rank. 

The  initial  illustration  which  the  First  Part  of  "  Henry  VI." 
gives  us  of  this  deplorable  tendency,  occurs  in  the  speech  of  Joan 
of  Arc,  when  she  describes  the  humbleness  of  her  birth  to  the 
Dauphin  of  France  : — 

PUCELLE.  Dauphin,  I  am  by  birth  a  shepJierd's  daughter, 
My  wit1  untrain'd  in  any  kind  of  art, 
Heaven,  and  our  Lady  gracious,  hath  it  pleased 
To  shine  on  my  contemptible  estate : 
Lo,  whilst  I  waited  on  my  tender  lambs, 
And  to  sun's  parching  heat  display 'd  my  cheeks, 
God's  mother  deigned  to  appear  to  me : 
And,  in  a  vision  full  of  majesty, 
Will'd  me  to  leave  my  base  vocation. 

Act  I.  Scene  2. 

"We  find  this  disdain  for  inferior  birth  still  more  extravagantly 
expressed  in  Scene  4  of  the  same  act,  where  Talbot,  the  leader  of 
the  English  forces  in  France,  declares  that,  on  one  occasion,  when 
he  was  held  a  prisoner,  he  preferred  the  alternative  of  death,  to 
the  insult  of  being  exchanged  for  a  French  prisoner  of  inferior 
condition. 

1  The  word  "  wit  "  in  our  poet's  time,  usually  meant  intellect  or  intelli- 
gence, and  not  wit  as  we  use  the  word  now. 


222    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

TALBOT.  The  Duke  of  Bedford  had  a  prisoner, 

Called — the  brave  Lord  Ponton  de  Santrailles ; 

For  him  I  was  exchanged  and  ransomed. 

But  with  a  baser  man  of  arms  by  far, 

Once,  in  contempt,  they  would  have  barter  d  me; 

Which  I,  disdaining,  scorn  d  ;  and  craved  death 

Rather  than  I  would  be  so  piled  esteem  d. 

In  fine,  redeem'd  I  was  as  I  desired. 

The  next  instance  occurs  during  the  course  of  the  quarrel  be- 
tween Somerset  and  Plantagenet,  in  the  memorable  scene  in  the 
Temple  Garden,  where  the  plucking  of  the  white  and  red  roses 
signalizes  the  initiative  of  the  long  strife,  between  the  houses  of 
York  and  Lancaster.  Somerset,  in  this  scene,  taunts  Plantagenet 
with  the  attainder  of  his  father,  Richard,  Earl  of  Cambridge, 
who  was  executed  at  Southampton  for  treason  in  the  previous 
reign  of  Henry  V.  Somerset,  in  his  tirade,  thus  describes  the 
effect  of  such  a  ban  : — 

SOMEESET.  Was  not  thy  father,  Richard,  Earl  of  Cambridge, 
For  treason  executed  in  our  late  king's  days  ? 
And,  by  his  treason,  stand'st  not  thou  attainted, 
Corrupted,  and  exempt  from  ancient  gentry  ? 
His  trespass  yet  lives  guilty  in  thy  blood  ; 
And,  till  thou  be  restored,  thou  art  a  yeoman. 

Again,  Talbot,  in  the  next  act,  taunts  the  French,  who  are  on 
the  walls  of  Rouen. 

TALBOT.  Base  muleteers  of  France ! 

Like  peasant  footboys  do  they  keep  the  walls, 
And  dare  not  take  up  arms  like  gentlemen. 

In  the  First  Scene  of  Act  IV.,  Talbot  and  Gloster  thus  de- 
nounce a  certain  Sir  John  Fastolfe  (not  our  old  friend  Falstaff, 
of  the  Boar's  Head  Tavern)  with  treachery  to  the  English  forces 
in  the  field  : — 

TALBOT  (to  Fastolfe).  And 

I  vow'd,  base  knight,  when  I  did  meet  thee  next,  • 

To  tear  the  garter  from  thy  craven's  leg.     [Plucking  it  off. 

(Which  I  have  done),  because  unworthily 

Thou  wast  installed  in  that  high  degree. — 

Pardon  me,  princely  Henry,  and  the  rest : 

This  dastard,  at  the  battle  of  Paray, 

When  but  in  all  I  was  six  thousand  strong, 

And  that  the  French  were  almost  ten  to  one, — 


"  King  Henry  VI?— Part  I.  223 

Before  we  met,  or  that  a  stroke  was  given, 

Like  to  a  trusty  squire,  did  run  away : 

In  which  assault  we  lost  twelve  hundred  men, 

Myself,  and  divers  gentlemen  beside, 

Were  there  surprised  and  taken  prisoners. 

Then  judge,  great  lords,  if  I  have  done  amiss ; 

Or,  whether  that  such  cowards  ought  to  wear 

This  ornament  of  knighthood,  yea  or  no  ? 
GLO.         To  say  the  truth,  this  act  was  infamous, 

And  ill-beseeming  any  common  man  ; 

Much  more  a  knight,  a  captain,  and  a  leader. 
TAL.         When  first  this  order  was  ordained,  my  lords, 

Knights  of  the  garter  were  of  noble  birth; 

Valiant,  and  virtuous,  full  of  haughty  courage, 

Such  as  were  grown  to  credit  by  the  wars ; 

Not  fearing  death,  nor  shrinking  for  distress, 

But  always  resolute  in  most  extremes. 

He,  then,  that  is  not  furnish'd  in  this  sort, 

Doth  but  usurp  the  sacred  name  of  knight, 

Profaning  this  most  honourable  order ; 

And  sh'ould  (if  I  were  worthy  to  be  judge,) 

Be  quite  degraded,  like  a  hedge-born  swain 

That  doth  presume  to  boast  of  gentle  blood. 
K.  HEN.  Stain  to  thy  countrymen  !  thou  hear'st  thy  doom. 

Be  packing  therefore,  thou  that  wast  a  knight ; 

Henceforth  we  banish  thee  on  pain  of  death. 

Finally,  in  order  to  put  the  climax  of  reprobation  upon  low 
birth  and  its  assumed  degraded  instincts,  Shakespeare  makes  the 
inspired  maid,  Joan  of  Arc,  deny  her  own  father  in  most  oppro- 
brious terms,  her  chief  accusation  being  against  the  meanness  of 
his  birth.  The  following  is  a  full  description  of  this  extraor- 
dinary scene : — 

Act  V.  Scene  4. — Camp  of  the  Duke  of  York,  in  Anjou. 

Enter  YORK,  WARWICK,  and  others. 
YORK.      Bring  forth  that  sorceress,  condemn'd  to  burn. 
Enter  LA  PUCELLE,  guarded,  and  a  Shepherd. 
SHEP.      Ah,  Joan  !  this  kills  thy  father's  heart  outright ! 
Have  I  sought  every  country  far  and  near, 
And,  now  it  is  my  chance  to  find  thee  out, 
Must  I  behold  thy  timeless,  cruel  death  ? 
Ah,  Joan,  sweet  daughter  Joan,  I'll  die  with  thee  ! 
Puc.         Decrepit  miser  !2  base,  iff  noble  wretch  ! 

2  "Miser"  means,  in  this  connexion,  miserable  person. — Duychinck. 


224  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

I  am  descended,  of  a  gentler  blood  ; 

Thou  art  no  father,  nor  no  friend,  of  mine. 
SHEP.      Out,  out ! — My  lords,  an  please  you,  'tis  not  so ; 

I  did  beget  her,  all  the  parish  knows : 

Her  mother  liveth  yet,  can  testify 

She  was  the  first  fruit  of  my  bachelorship. 
WAS.  Graceless  !  wilt  thou  deny  thy  parentage  ? 
YOEK.  This  argues  what  her  kind  of  life  hath  been ; 

Wicked  and  vile ;  and  so  her  death  concludes. 
SHEP.      Fye,  Joan  !  that  thou  wilt  be  so  obstacle ! 

God  knows,  thou  art  a  collop  of  my  flesh : 

And  for  thy  sake  have  I  shed  many  a  tear : 

Deny  me  not,  I  pr'y  thee,  gentle  Joan. 
Puc.        Peasant,  avaunt !     You  have  suborn  d  this  man 

Of  purpose  to  obscure  my  noble  birth. 
SHEP.      'Tis  true,  I  gave  a  noble  to  the  priest, 

The  morn  that  I  was  "wedded  to  her  mother. 

Kneel  down  and  take  my  blessing,  good  my  girl. 

Wilt  thou  not  stoop  ?    Now  cursed  be  the  times 

Of  thy  nativity  1     I  would,  the  milk 

Thy  mother  gave  thee,  when  thou  suck'dst  her  breast, 

Had  been  a  little  ratsbane  for  thy  sake  ! 

Or  else,  when  thou  didst  keep  my  lambs  a  field, 

I  wish  some  ravenous  wolf  had  eaten  thee ; 

Dost  thou  deny  thy  father,  cursed  drab  ? 

O,  burn  her,  burn  her ;  hanging  is  too  good.  \JExit. 

YOBK.      Take  her  away ;  for  she  hath  lived  too  long 

To  fill  the  world  with  vicious  qualities. 
Pure.         First,  let  me  tell  you  whom  you  have  condemn'd ; 

Not  me  begotten  of  a  shepherd  swain, 

But  issued  from  the  progeny  of  kings  ; 

Virtuous,  and  holy  ;  chosen  from  above, 

By  inspiration  of  celestial  grace. 

*  *  • 

YOBK.      Ay,  ay  ; — away  with  her  to  execution. 

And  hark  ye,  sirs ;  because  she  is  a  maid, 

Spare  for  no  faggots,  let  there  be  enough  ; 

Place  barrels  of  pitch  upon  the  fatal  stake, 

That  so  her  torture  may  be  shortened. 
Puc.         Will  nothing  turn  your  unrelenting  hearts  ? 

Then,  Joan,  discover  thine  infirmity ; 

That  warranteth  by  law  to  be  thy  privilege. 

I  am  with  child,  ye  bloody  homicides ; 

Murder  not  then  the  fruit  within  my  womb, 

Although  ye  hale  me  to  a  violent  death. 
YOBK.      Now,  heaven  forfend  !  the  holy  maid  with  child  ? 
WAB.       The  greatest  miracle  that  e'er  ye  wrought : 


"  King  Henry  VI."— Part  /. 


225 


Is  all  your  strict  preciseness  come  to  this  ? 
YOEK.      She  and  the  Dauphin  have  been  juggling : 

I  did  imagine  what  would  be  her  refuge. 
WAE.       Well,  go  to ;  we  will  have  no  bastards  live ; 

Especially,  since  Charles  must  father  it. 
Puc.        You  are  deceived ;  my  child  is  none  of  his : 

It  was  Alen£on  that  enjoy'd  my  love. 
YOEK.      Alen£on  !  that  notorious  Machiavel ! 

It  dies,  an  if  it  had  a  thousand  lives. 
Puc.        O,  give  me  leave,  I  have  deluded  you ; 

'Twas  neither  Charles,  nor  yet  the  duke  I  named, 

But  Eeignier,  king  of  Naples,  that  prevail'd. 
WAE.       A  married  man  !  that's  most  intolerable. 
YOEK.      Why,  here's  a  girl !     I  think,  she  knows  not  well, 

There  were  so  many,  whom  she  may  accuse. 
WAE.       It's  sign,  she  hath  been  liberal  and  free. 
YOEK.      And  yet,  forsooth,  she  is  a  virgin  pure. — 

Strumpet,  thy  words  condemn  thy  brat,  and  thde : 

Use  no  entreaty,  for  it  is  in  vain. 
Puc.        Then  lead  me  hence ; — with  whom  I  leave  my  curse : 

May  never  glorious  sun  reflex  his  beams 

Upon  the  country  where  you  make  abode  ! 

But  darkness  and  the  gloomy  shade  of  death 

Environ  you  :  till  mischief,  and  despair, 

Drive  you  to  break  your  necks,  or  hang  yourselves ! 

[Exit,  guarded. 
YOEK.      Break  thou  in  pieces,  and  consume  to  ashes, 

Thou  foul  accursed  minister  of  hell ! 

In  Scene  5  of  Act  V.  we  have  the  following1  expression  by 
Suffolk,  in  reply  to  an  objection  raised  by  some  of  Henry's 
nobles,  that  the  proposed  dower  of  Margaret  is  insufficient  for 
the  consort  of  a  king  : — 

SUFFOLK.  So,  worthless  peasants  bargain  for  their  wives, 
As  market-men  for  oxen,  sheep,  or  horse. 
Marriage  is  a  matter  of  more  worth, 
Than  to  be  dealt  in  by  attorneyship. 

King  Henry,  after  hearing  this  speech,  orders  Suffolk  to  go 
and  entreat — 

That  Lady  Margaret  do  vouchsafe  to  come 
To  cross  the  seas  to  England,  and  be  crown'd 
King  Henry's  faithful  and  anointed  queen  ; 
For  your  expenses  and  sufficient  charge 
Among  the  people  gather  up  a  tenth. 

Lords,  lords,  lords;  nothing  but  princes  and  lords,  and  The 


226   Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

People  never  alluded  to  except  as  worthless  peasants ,  or  to  be 
scorned  as  seals  and  hedge-lorn  swains.  Surely  the  privileged 
classes  of  Great  Britain  cannot  defend  the  supremacy  of  Shake- 
speare's intellect  too  stubbornly.  As  I  have  said  before,  they 
have  an  interest  in  keeping  up  a  prestige  for  the  Bard  of  Avon 
which  is  to  them  beyond  all  price ! — Though  it  suggests  itself, 
in  this  connexion,  that  those  classes  exhibit  an  impolitic  greedi- 
ness when  they  try  to  prove,  under  the  leadership  of  such  social 
autocrats  as  Palmerston,  that  the  author  of  these  plays  was  a 
noble  like  themselves.  The  services  rendered  to  their  order  by 
the  transcendant  muse  of  Shakespeare,  would  be  of  tenfold  value 
as  coming  from  a  commoner,  than  through  the  medium  of 
rank.  But  errors  of  this  stamp  are  always  made  in  unjust 
causes.  The  bards  who  string  their  lyres  for  liberty  receive 
only  the  frowns  of  Corinthian  society  ;  and  no  room  is  allowed 
for  the  unrespected  ashes,  even  of  the  derogate  liberty-loving 
noble,  Byron,  in  Westminster  Abbey. 


"  King  Henry  VI r— Part  II.  227 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


WHATEVER  the  blind  idolaters  of  Shakespeare  may  offer  in  excuse 
for  his  abject  servility  to  the  privileged  classes,  and  for  his 
aggressive  contempt  for  humble  birth  and  laborious  avocation ; 
whatever  extenuation  may  be  made  in  the  name  of  patriotism 
for  his  monstrous  perversions  of  the  truth  of  history, — as  in  his 
account  of  the  battle  of  Agincourt,  and  for  usually  making  the 
English  whip  their  enemies  at  the  disadvantage  of  at  least  ten 
to  one, — no  palliation  can  be  set  up  for  him  in  regard  to  the 
monstrous  and  inexcusable  falsehoods  which  disgrace  the  pages 
of  the  above-entitled  play  as  to  the  rebellion  of  Jack  Cade,  and 
about  the  character  of  that  brave  and  devoted  leader.  The  "  love 
of  country"  which  is  pleaded  in  excuse  for  the  English  poet's 
exaggerations  against  the  French,  while  it  may  be  pardoned  by 
some  very  loyal  persons,  is  a  far  less  worthy  motive  to  any  well- 
regulated  mind,  than  the  love  of  humanity  and  truth.  The 
first  may  be  characterized  as  a  mere  geographical  affection, 
carefully  inculcated  by  monarchs  for  their  own  purposes,  and 
extending  no  further  than  the  boundaries  of  their  dominions; 
while  the  latter  are  sentiments  implanted  by  the  Creator,  as 
broad  as  His  own  mercy,  as  active  as  His  own  beneficence,  and 
comprehending,  through  the  impulses  of  every  good  heart,  the 
welfare  and  happiness  of  the  whole  human  race.  There  can  be 
no  excuse  for  such  an  entire  absence  of  philanthropy  in  any  man, 
as  to  justify  his  discharging  the  poor  and  humble  so  utterly 
from  his  consideration,  as  Shakespeare  did;  or  to  induce  him  to 
find  his  ideals  of  patriotism  and  worthiness  only  amid  the 
throngs  of  their  oppressors.  Such  a  writer  is  a  mere  pander  to 
the  crimes  of  tyrants,  and  he  gives  evidence,  whatever  may  be 
his  intellectual  eminence,  that  he  has  been  perverted,  by  accidental 
circumstances,  from  the  purpose  he  was  commissioned  to  perform. 


228    Shakespeare ,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Gratitude  to  earthly  patrons,  such  as  William  Shakespeare's 
to  Southampton  and  to  Essex,  or  the  weak  yearning  of  the 
Stratford  adventurer  to  invest  his  easily-earned  money  in  a 
coat-of-arms  and  become  a  gentleman,  can  never  palliate  the 
monstrous  misrepresentations  by  which  the  poet  has  deceived  his 
humble  countrymen,  from  an  honest  admiration  of  the  patriotism 
of  Jack  Cade. 


THE  REBELLION  OF  WAT  TYLER. 

To  properly  measure  this  perversion  of  his  powers  by  Shake- 
speare, we  must  look  at  the  social  condition  of  England  in  the 
time  of  which  he  wrote.  The  rebellion  of  Jack  Cade,  against 
the  oppressions  of  the  nobles  and  the  crown,  took  place  in  1450, 
one  hundred  and  four  years  before  our  poet  was  born.  Only  one 
popular  uprising  had  previously  taken  place  in  England,  and 
that  was  known  as  "  the  rebellion  of  Wat  Tyler,"  which  oc- 
curred in  1381,  just  seventy-nine  years  previous  to  the  rebellion 
of  Jack  Cade.  As  the  movement  of  Tyler  was  the  first  general 
rising  of  the  Commons,  and  marks  the  dawn  of  popular  liberty 
in  England,  we  cannot  do  better  than  to  give  a  sketch  of  the 
social  state  of  affairs,  which  provoked  it,  from  the  most  trust- 
worthy chroniclers  of  the  time.  The  principal  of  these  chroniclers 
are  Hall  and  Holinshed,  by  whose  pages  Shakespeare  was  mainly 
guided  in  his  dramatic  histories.  Mackintosh,  who  wrote  at  a 
subsequent  period  and  under  better  lights,  is  more  liberal  and 
reliable  than  either  of  the  other  two.  In  speaking  of  the 
oppressions  of  Wat  Tyler's  time,  Mackintosh  says, — 

"  It  is  an  error  to  trace  to  the  charters,  which  the  barons 
extorted  from  their  monarchs,  the  liberties  of  England;  the 
triumphs  of  the  nobles  were  theirs  alone,  and  enured  almost 
exclusively  to  their  own  advantage.  The  mass  of  the  people 
were  villeins  or  serfs,  and  they  were  left,  by  those  boasted 
charters,  in  their  chains.  The  condition  of  the  bondmen  differed 
in  degrees  of  degradation  and  cruelty  (for  the  mere  slaves — 
servi — were  known  by  the  names  of  theow,  esne,  and  thrall,  and. 
distinguished  from  the  villeins),  but,  even  where  most  favourable, 
it  was  a  dark  and  inhuman  oppression.  The  villeins  were 
incapable  of  property,  destitute  of  legal  redress,  and  bound  to 
services  ignoble  in  their  nature  and  indeterminate  in  their 


"King  Henry  VI."— Part  II.  229 

degree;  they  were  sold  separately  from  the  land,  could  not 
marry  without  consent,  and  were,  in  nowise,  elevated  above  the 
beasts  of  burthen  with  which  they  drudged  in  their  unrequited 
and  hopeless  labour.  At  length,  their  sufferings  drove  them  into 
resistance;  and  that  resistance,  provoked  and  sanctified  by 
unmeasured  wrongs,  has  been,  by  almost  every  successive 
historian  made  the  subject  of  misrepresentation  and  obloquy/'' 

Holinshed  ascribes  the  insurrection  of  Wat  Tyler  to  "the 
lewd  demeanour  of  some  indiscrete  officers,"  but  thus  indignantly 
condemns  the  "  disloyal"  movement : — 

"  The  commons  of  the  realme  sore  repining,  not  onely  for  the 
pole  grotes  that  were  demanded  of  them,  by  reason  of  the  grant 
made  in  parlement,  but  also  for  that  they  were  sore  oppressed 
(as  they  tooke  the  matter)  by  their  landlords,  that  demanded  of 
them  their  ancient  customes  and  services,  set  on  by  some  develish 
instinct  and  persuasion  of  their  owne  beastlie  intentions,  as  men 
not  content  with  the  state  whereunto  they  were  called,  rose  in 
diverse  parts  of  this  realme,  and  assembled  togither  in  companies, 
purposing  to  inforce  the  prince  to  make  them  free  and  to  release 
them  of  all  servitude,  whereby  they  stood  as  bondmen  to  their 
lords  and  superiours." 

Judge  Conrad,  of  Philadelphia,  in  an  able  essay  prefixed  to  his 
tragedy  of  "  Jack  Cade/''  in  writing  of  these  times  from  an 
American  stand-point,  describes  as  follows  the  outrage  to  which 
Holinshed  alludes : — 

"  The  overcharged  feelings  of  the  people  were  at  length,  by  an 
outrage  calculated  in  the  highest  degree  to  excite  the  passions  of 
the  multitude,  let  loose,  and  swept  the  land  like  a  torrent.  One 
of  the  insolent  and  rapacious  officers  for  the  collection  of  an 
oppressive  poll-tax  entered,  during  the  absence  of  its  proprietor, 
the  cottage  of  a  tiler — a  man  who  seems  to  have  been  worthily 
esteemed  by  the  populace.  This  tax  was  leviable  upon  females 
only  when  over  fifteen  years  of  age ;  and  the  licentious  officer, 
alleging  that  the  beautiful  daughter  of  the  tiler  was  beyond  that 
age,  '  therewith/  (we  quote  again  from  Hollinshed) ,  '  began  to 
misuse  the  maid,  and  search  further  than  honestie  would  have 
permitted.  The  mother  straightwaie  made  an  outcrie,  so  that 
hir  husband  being  in  the  towne  at  worke,  and  hearing  of  this 
adoo  at  his  house,  came  running  home  with  his  lathing  staffe  in 
his  hand,  and  began  to  question  with  the  officer,  asking  him  who 
16 


230   Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

made  him  so  bold  to  keepe  such  a  rule  in  his  house;  the  officer, 
being  somewhat  presumptuous,  and  high-minded,  would  forth- 
with have  flown  upon  the  tiler ;  but  the  tiler,  avoiding  the  officer's 
blow,  caught  him  such  a  rap  on  the  pate,  that  his  braines  flue 
out,  and  so  presentlie  he  died.  Great  noise  rose  about  this  matter 
in  the  streets,  and  the  poor  folks  being  glad,  everie  man  arraied 
himself  to  support  John  Tiler,  and  thus  the  commons  drew 
togither  and  went  to  Maidestone,  and  from  thence  to  Blackheath, 
where  their  numbers  so  increased,  that  they  were  reckoned  to  be 
thirtie  thousand.  And  the  said  John  Tiler  tooke  vpon  him  to 
be  their  cheefe  captaine,  etc/ 

"  It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  holier  motives  to  justify 
resistance  to  oppression  than  those  unwittingly  and  unwillingly 
disclosed  by  the  chroniclers,  who  represent  the  commons  as  the 
guiltiest  malefactors.  Their  wrongs  and  sufferings  were  as  dark 
and  deadly  as  any  which  ever  crushed  a  people.  They  had  no 
hope  of  redress  from  courts  or  codes  ;  their  only  reliance  was  in 
their  own  union  or  hardihood ;  and  the  invocation  to  resistance 
proclaimed  in  the  outrage  upon  the  helplessness  of  the  Tiler's 
daughter  was  as  sacred  and  moving  as  that  by  which  Brutus  or 
Virginius  aroused  Rome.  Nor  does  the  purity  and  elevation  of 
the  cause  suffer  reproach  from  the  conduct  of  its  champions. 
Wat  Tyler  soon  found  himself  at  the  head  of  one  hundred  thou- 
sand men,  '  the  villeins  and  poor  men'  of  Kent,  Norfolk,  Suffolk, 
Essex,  Sussex,  and  other  Eastern  counties.  Illiterate,  unused 
to  freedom,  infuriated  by  wrongs  and  desperate  from  misery,  it 
might  be  supposed  that  so  vast  and  disorganized  a  multitude 
would  have  rushed  into  boundless  excesses.  So  far  from  it,  it 
seems  that,  from  the  first,  they  not  only  disclaimed  treasonable 
designs,  but  administered  to  all  an  oath  that  'they  should  be 
faithful  to  King  Richard  and  the  Commons/  They  soon  obtained 
possession  of  London,  and  the  Chancellor  and  the  Primate  suffered 
the  death  they  merited,  '  as  evil  counsellors  of  the  crown  and 
cruel  oppressors  of  the  people  ! ' 

"  The  conduct  of  this  vast  multitude,  provoked  by  a  thousand 
wrongs,  and  with  the  power  to  secure  an  ample  vengeance,  and 
glut  to  the  uttermost  their  rapacity  on  the  spoil  of  their  unsparing 
oppressors,  presents  a  singular  contrast  with  the  dishonourable 
perfidy  and  sanguinary  cruelty  exhibited  by  their  lords.  Mackin- 
tosh, the  only  historian  who  does  them  even  stinted  justice,  says, 


"  King  Henry  VI."— Part  II.  23 1 

'  At  this  moment  of  victory,  the  demands  of  the  serfs  were  mo- 
derate, and,  except  in  one  instance,  just.  They  required  the 
abolition  of  bondage,  the  liberty  of  buying-  and  selling  in  fairs 
and  markets,  a  general  pardon,  and  the  reduction  of  the  rent  of 
land  to  an  equal  rate.  The  last  of  these  conditions  was  indeed 
unjust  and  absurd ;  but  the  first  of  them,  though  incapable  of 
being  carried  into  immediate  execution  without  probably  pro- 
ducing much  misery  to  themselves,  was  yet  of  such  indisputable 
justice  on  general  grounds,  as  to  make  it  most  excusable  in  the 
sufferers  to  accept  nothing  less  from  their  oppressors/  But  this 
usually  accurate  historian  fails  to  inform  us  that  the  court,  after 
a  mature  consideration  of  the  demands  of  the  commons,  regularly 
and  formally  conceded  all  that  was  required.  Doubts  being 
entertained,  as  the  result  proved  not  without  reason,  of  the  sin- 
cerity of  the  king  and  court,  charters  were  demanded  and  granted, 
securing  the  abolition  of  bondage,  the  redress  of  grievances,  and 
a  full  pardon  to  all  engaged  in  the  insurrection.  The  annals  of 
royalty,  clouded  as  they  are  with  every  crime  of  which  human 
nature  is  capable,  present  few  instances  of  such  deliberate  and 
atrocious  perfidy,  or  craft  so  cowardly  and  base,  consummated  by 
cruelty  so  guilty  and  unsparing. 

"{ The  commons  having  received  this  charter  departed  home/ 
The  Essex  men  first  left  London,  and  those  from  other  counties 
shortly  followed.  The  leader  of  the  Kentishmen,  the  unfortunate 
Wat  Tyler,  distrusted  the  fair  dealing  of  the  court,  and  in  an 
interview  with  the  king  at  Smithfield,  met  a  melancholy  realiza- 
tion of  his  fears.  Mackintosh,  in  relating  the  facts,  remarks,  '  It 
must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  partisans  of  Tyler  had  no  his- 
torians/ But  a  careful  review  of  the  servile  chroniclers  of  the 
court  will  satisfy  the  reader  that  Tyler  was,  in  the  presence  of 
the  king,  and  under  his  guaranty  of  safety,  basely  assassinated. 

"  This  murder  was  but  the  first  of  thousands.  The  finale  may 
be  readily  imagined.  The  solemn  and  sacred  pardon  of  the  king 
(Richard  II.)  was  disregarded;  the  charter,  with  its  sanction  of 
covenants  and  oaths,  was  revoked.  After  the  dispersion  of  the 
commons,  '  the  men  of  Essex/  says  Holinshed,  '  sent  to  the  king 
to  know  of  him  if  his  pleasure  was,  that  they  should  enjoy  their 
promised  liberties/  The  king,  '  in  a  great  chafe/  answered  that 
'  bondmen  they  were  and  bondmen  they  should  be,  and  that  in 
more  vile  manner  than  before/  An  army  was  sent  against  them. 


232  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

and  all  who  did  not  escape  into  the  woods  were  slain.  Mackintosh 
admits  that  '  the  revolt  was  extinguished  with  the  cruelty  and 
"bloodshed  by  which  the  masters  of  slaves  seem  generally  anxious 
to  prove  that  they  are  not  of  a  race  superior  in  any  noble  quality 
to  the  meanest  of  their  bondmen.  More  than  fifteen  hundred 
perished  by  the  hands  of  the  hangman/  But  Henry  Kniston  states 
that  '  Then  the  king,  of  his  accustomed  clemencie,  being  pricked 
with  pitie,  would  not  that  the  wretches  should  die,  but  spared 
them,  being  a  rash  and  foolish  multitude,  and  commanded  them 
everie  man  to  get  him  home  to  his  owne  house ;  howbeit  manie 
of  them  at  the  king's  going  awaie  suffered  death.  In  this  miserable 
taking  were  reckoned  to  the  number  of  t  wen  tie  thousand/ '' 

I  will  adopt  Judge  Conrad's  description  of  the  events  of  Cade's 
uprising,  preferring  his  narrative  to  any  recital  of  my  own;  first, 
because  a  comparison  of  his  with  the  histories  of  the  period  shows 
it  to  be  entirely  trustworthy ;  and  next,  because  it  is  not  suscep- 
tible of  improvement  at  my  hands. 

THE   REBELLION    OF   CADE. 

"  The  period  between  this  rebellion  and  the  uprising  of  Cade, 
in  1450,"  says  Judge  Conrad,  "  had  reduced  England  to  the 
same  condition  as  under  the  reign  of  Richard  II.  Villeinage, 
with  all  its  sufferings  and  debasement,  continued,  and  the  com- 
mons were  ground  to  the  dust  by  the  exactions  of  the  court,  and 
the  unbridled  oppression  of  the  barons.  Thus,  with  disgrace 
abroad  and  agony  at  home,  the  contrast  with  the  glory  of  the 
recent  reign  was  insupportable ;  and  the  popular  discontent  was 
manifested  in  risings,  which,  after  the  manner  of  the  time,  took 
the  name  of  (  Blue  Beard/  So  intense  was  the  excitement  against 
Say  and  Suffolk,  that  the  latter,  notwithstanding  the  efforts  of 
the  Queen  to  screen  '  her  darling/  met  the  fate  which  he  so  justly 
merited.  Shortly  after  this  execution,  a  body  of  the  peasantry  of 
Kent  met  in  arms,  at  Blackheath,  under  a  leader  whose  brief 
and  eventful  career  has  been  made  the  subject  of  unmeasured 
misrepresentation . 

"  Stowe  alone  represents  his  name  to  have  really  been  Cade, 
while  in  a  contemporary  record  he  is  called  Mr.  John  Aylmere, 
Physician  (Ellis'  Letters,  I.,  second  series,  112).  This  account 
seems  to  be  fully  entitled  to  credit;  it  accords  with  the  language 


"King  Henry  VI"— Part  II.  233 

and  deportment  of  the  chief  of  the  commons,  and  we  doubt  not 
that  such  were  his  name  and  profession.  It  was,  however,  usual 
in  such  commotions  to  give  to  prominent  actors,  probably  for 
purposes  of  concealment  and  security,  fictitious  and  popular 
names.  Thus  we  have  seen  that  Wat  Tyler  assumed  the  name 
of  Jack  Straw.  All  the  popular  leaders  appear  thus  to  have 
borne  names  for  the  war.  But  Aylmere  was  not  only  called  Jack 
Cade,  for  Polychronicon  says  he  was  '  of  some  named  John 
Mendall/  The  chronicles  furnish  no  proof  that  he  ever  acknow- 
ledged the  name  of  Cade.  In  his  communications  with  the 
government  he  used  merely  the  title  of  *  Captain  of  the  Com- 
mons/ Mackintosh  characterizes  him  as  '  a  leader  of  disputed 
descent,  who  had  been  transmitted  to  posterity  with  the  nick- 
name of  John  Cade.  On  him  they  bestowed  the  honourable 
name  of  John  Mortimer,  with  manifest  allusion  to  the  claims  of 
the  house  of  Mortimer  to  the  succession,  which  were,  however, 
now  indisputably  vested  in  Richard,  Duke  of  York/  It  seems 
that  the  friends  of  the  Duke  of  York  favoured  the  insurrection, 
a  fact  of  itself  sufficient  to  attach  dignity  and  importance  to 
the  movement.  Hall  and  Holinshed  agree  in  this  statement. 
They  describe  him  as  '  a  certeine  young  man  of  a  goodlie  stature 
and  right  pregnaunt  of  wit,  who  was  intised  to  take  upon  him 
the  name  of  John  Mortimer,  coosine  to  the  Duke  of  York,  and 
not  for  a  small  policie,  but  thinking  by  that  surname  that  those 
which  favoured  the  house  of  the  Earle  of  Marche  would  be 
assistant  to  him.  And  so  indeed  it  came  to  passe/  If  Aylmere 
permitted  this  title  to  be  given  him,  he  certainly  did  not  use  it 
in  his  addresses  to  the  King  and  Parliament,  nor  in  his  letters 
which  have  been  preserved.  It  is  also  certain  that  the  name  of 
Mortimer  could  not,  in  any  event,  have  promoted  any  personal 
design ;  and  that  he  never  claimed  power,  rank,  or  reward  for 
himself,  his  simple  title  being  The  Captain,  and  his  sole  efforts 
confined  to  the  amelioration  of  the  condition  of  the  people.  So 
far  from  seeking  revolution,  he  most  emphatically  proclaimed  his 
loyalty,  and  all  his  acts  were  in  the  name  of  the  king.  The  title 
of  Mortimer  may  have  been  given  him  as  a  demonstration  of 
respect,  for  Fabyan  says  that  '  the  multitude  named  him 
Mortimer,  and  this  kept  the  people  wondrously  togither/ 

"  The  leader  who  assumed  the  bold  attitude  of  calm  resistance 
must  have  been,  if  a  physician  at  that  period,  superior  to  most  of 


234  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

his  opponents  in  the  limited  learning  of  the  age.  His  letters, 
his  addresses  to  the  King  and  Parliament,  his  interview  with  the 
commissioners  of  the  court,  and  the  general  tenor  of  his  proceed- 
ings, prove  the  possession  of  an  intellect  of  no  ordinary  cultiva- 
tion and  force;  and  his  military  skill  and  success  indicate 
experience  and  sagacity  as  a  soldier.  His  first  measure,  after 
assuming  a  position  on  Blackheath,  was  to  proclaim  distinctly 
the  object  of  '  the  assembly  of  the  commons/  We  learn  from 
Hall  and  Holinshed  that — 

"  He  maintained  also  a  correspondence  with  London,  and  his 
letters  of  safeguard  to  citizens  passing  to  and  from  the  camp  and 
city,  are  formally  and  well  drawn,  and  prove  that  even  then  he 
received  supplies  of  money  and  arms  from  the  capital.  While  thus 
organizing  and  disciplining  his  host,  with  a  calmness  and  delibe- 
ration which  manifests  anything  but  the  madness  ascribed  to  him, 
'  he  devised/  says  Fabyan,  '  a  bill  of  petitions  to  the  king  and 
his  council,  and  showed  therein  what  injuries  and  oppressions  the 
poor  commons  suffered  by  such  as  were  about  the  king/  This 
proceeding  is  thus  characterized  by  Holinshed :  '  And  to  the 
intent  the  cause  of  this  glorious  captain's  coming  thither,  might 
be  shadowed  vnder  a  cloke  of  good  meaning  (though  his  intent 
nothing  so)  he  sentvnto  the  king  an  humble  supplication,  affirm- 
ing that  his  coming  was  not  against  his  grace,  but  against  such 
of  his  councellors  as  were  louers  of  themselues  and  oppressors  of 
the  poor  commonaltie  :  flatterers  of  the  king  and  enemies  of  his 
honour ;  suckers  of  his  purse,  and  robbers  of  his  subjects ;  par- 
ciall  to  their  friends,  and  extreame  to  their  enimies ;  through 
bribes  corrupted,  and  for  indifferencie  dooing  nothing/  The 
Parliament  was  then  in  session;  and  this  bill  of  complaint, 
together  with  the  requests  of  the  commons,  was  sent  to  that  body 
as  well  as  to  the  King.  The  '  Complaint  of  the  Commons  of  Kent, 
and  the  causes  of  their  assemblie  on  the  Blackheathe/  comprises 
fifteen  items,  set  forth  with  great  clearness  and  force,  and  mani- 
festing as  high  an  order  of  learning  and  ability  as  any  state  paper 
of  the  times.  This  Bill  of  Complaints,  as  given  by  Holinshed, 
affords  conclusive  evidence  that  Aylmere,  instead  of  being  the 
ignorant,  ferocious,  and  vulgar  ruffian  generally  supposed,  was  a 
patriot  eminently  enlightened  and  discreet. 

"  The  requests  of  this  Bill  of  Complaints  were  disallowed  by 
the  council,  whom  they  accused,  and  some  days  after  the  king 


"King  Henry  VI"— Part  II.  235 

marched  against  the  force  under  Aylmere  ;  but  that  leader  seems 
to  have  been  averse  to  the  commencement  of  actual  hostilities, 
especially  against  the  king  in  person ;  and  he  retired  before  him, 
taking  post  at  Seven  Oak,  when  the  king  returned  to  London. 
The  withdrawal  of  Aylmere  is  considered,,  by  the  chroniclers, 
who  can  imagine  no  good  of  the  people's  chief,  a  mere  feint  to 
entice  the  royal  army  into  a  more  unfavourable  position.  The 
queen,  '  that  bare  rule/  shortly  after  sent  Sir  Humphrey  Stafford 
with  an  army,  to  disperse  the  rebels.  The  captain  still  desired 
to  avoid  the  effusion  of  blood ;  and  we  are  told  by  Fabyan  that, 
'when  Sir  Humphrey,  with  his  company,  drew  near  to  Seven 
Oak,  he  was  warned  of  the  captain/  But  this  generous  caution 
and  unusual  moderation,  doubtless  ascribed  to  pusillanimity,  did 
not  avail ;  and  Aylmere  met  the  inevitable  issue  with  the  skill 
and  courage  of  a  tried  soldier,  and  defeated  them  with  great  loss. 
"  After  this  important  victory,  the  leader  of  the  Commons,  says 
Mackintosh,  'assumed  the  attire,  ornaments  and  style  of  a 
knight ;  and,  under  the  title  of  captain,  he  professed  to  preserve 
the  country  by  enforcing  the  rigid  observance  of  discipline  among 
his  followers/  Having  refreshed  his  people,  he  resumed  his 
position  on  Blackheath,  '  where  he  strongly  encamped  himself, 
diverse  idle  and  vagrant  persons/  says  Holinshead,  c  out  of  Sussex, 
Surrie,  and  other  places,  still  increasing  his  number/  The  king 
and  his  council  were  now  fully  aroused  to  a  sense  of  their  danger ; 
and  they  determined  to  have  recourse  to  the  policy  of  negotiation, 
promises  and  perfidy,  found  so  effective  in  the  previous  insurrec- 
tion. They  accordingly  sent  to  the  leader,  whose  humble 
'  requests '  they  had  received  with  such  disdain,  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury  and  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  to  treat  of  an 
accommodation.  The  report  of  this  interview,  derived  as  it  is 
from  writers  prompt  to  blacken  Aylmere,  and  reluctant  to  admit 
the  slightest  point  in  his  favour,  establishes,  beyond  doubt,  the 
elevation  of  his  character  and  deportment.  Fabyan  says  that  the 
royal  commissioners  fhad  with  him  long  communication,  and 
found  him  right  discrete  in  his  answers.  Howbeit,  they  could 
not  cause  him  to  lay  down  his  people,  and  submit  him  (uncondi- 
tionally) to  the  king's  grace/  Holinshed's  account  after  Hall,  is 
more  full  and  expressive.  '  These  lords  found  him  sober  in  talke, 
wise  in  reasoning,  arrogant  in  hart,  and  stiffe  in  opinion ;  as 
who  that  by  no  means  would  grant  to  dissolve  his  armie,  except 


236  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

the  king  in  person  would  come  to  him,  and  assent  to  the  things 
he  would  require/  The  captain,  it  seems,  remembered  the  ill 
faith  practiced  towards  Wat  Tyler,  and  was  unwilling  to  place  it 
in  the  power  of  the  court  to  re-enact  that  tragedy.  Subsequent 
events  proved  how  just  were  his  suspicions. 

"  The  king  was  alarmed  by  the  firm  attitude  of  Aylmere,  and 
still  more  by  the  disaffection  evident  among  his  own  followers. 
....  The  captain,  notwithstanding  his  recent  victory,  his  great 
force,  and  the  natural  impatience  of  his  host,  had  forborne  to 
advance  against  the  king ;  but  his  retreat  rendered  some 
decisive  action  now  necessary.  Nothing  was  to  be  expected 
from  the  court.  Time  was  pressing ;  for  delay  multiplied  his 
dangers,  and  increased  the  difficulty  of  holding  together  and 
restraining  so  vast  and  undisciplined  a  multitude.  His  only 
course  was  to  take  possession  of  the  capital,  and  redress,  through 
such  legal  authorities  as  he  found  in  existence,  or  upon  the 
warrant  of  the  nation's  expressed  will,  the  grievances  under 
which  the  realm  was  groaning.  This  step  was,  however, 
attended  with  great  difficulty  and  peril,  arising  from  his  own 
aversion  to  the  assumption  of  permanent  authority,  and  the 
absence  of  the  Duke  of  York,  who  might  then  have  taken  upon 
him,  as  he  did  afterwards,  the  supreme  control  of  affairs ;  and 
from  the  character  of  his  force  and  the  absence  of  regular 
resources  for  its  maintenance.  To  prevent  the  excesses  so 
much  to  be  apprehended,  he  rigidly  enforced  the  laws ;  or,  as 
Fabyan  has  it,  '  to  the  end  to  blind  the  more  people,  and  to 
bring  him  in  fame  that  he  kept  good  justice,  he  beheaded  there 
a  petty  captain  of  his  named  Parry  s,  for  so  much  as  he  had 
offended  against  such  ordinance  as  he  had  established  in  his 
host.  And  hearing  that  the  king  and  his  lords  had  thus  de- 
parted, drew  him  near  unto  the  city,  so  that  upon  the  first  day 
of  July  he  entered  the  burgh  of  South  wark/  Anxious  to  pro- 
ceed with  the  strictest  regard  to  the  peace  and  the  privileges  of 
the  city,  Aylmere,  next  day,  caused  the  authorities  of  London 
to  be  convened.  '  The  Mayor  called  the  Common  Council  at 
the  Guildhall,  for  to  purvey  the  understanding  of  these  rebels, 
and  other  matters,  in  which  assembly  were  divers  opinions,  so 
that  some  thought  good  that  the  said  rebels  should  be  received 
into  the  city,  and  some  otherwise/ — (Fabyan.)  He  was,  how- 
ever, admitted.  This  submission  to  authority  by  a  rebel  at  the 


"  King  Henry  VI.  "—Part  II.  237 

head  of  a  victorious  army,  is,  the  age  and  circumstances  con- 
sidered, a  remarkable  feature  of  the  insurrection.  '  The  same 
afternoon,  about  five  of  the  clock,  the  captain  with  his  people 
entered  by  the  Bridge  :  and  when  he  came  upon  the  draw-bridge, 
he  hew  the  ropes  that  drew  the  bridge  in  sunder  with  his  sword, 
and  so  passed  into  the  city,  and  made  in  sundry  places  thereof 
proclamations  in  the  king's  name,  that  no  man,  upon  pain  of 
death,  should  rob  or  take  anything  per  force  without  paying 
therefor.  By  reason  whereof  he  won  many  hearts  of  the 
commons  of  the  city ;  but/  continues  the  charitable  Fabyan,  '  all 
was  done  to  beguile  the  people/  ....  Thus  it  seems  that  he 
acted  in  full  concert  with  the  authorities;  that  he  did  everything 
in  his  power  to  prevent  and  punish  disorder  ;  and  that  so  anxious 
was  he  to  avoid  popular  tumult,  that  he  withdrew  his  force  from 
the  city,  and  did  not  permit  his  people  to  enter  it,  (  except  at 
lawful  times/  The  history  of  the  times  exhibits  no  instance  of 
such  consideration  for  the  welfare  of  the  people,  on  the  part  of 
monarchs  or  their  barons,  as  is  here  manifested  by '  the  villainous 
rebel/ 

"  It  was  necessary  that  Lord  Say  should  be  brought  to  trial. 
As  he  was  in  the  custody  of  Lord  Scales,  this  must  have  taken 
place  with  the  sanction  and  actual  aid  of  the  court.  {  On  the 
third  day  of  July/  says  Fabyan,  f  the  said  captain  entered  again 
the  city,  and  caused  the  Lord  Say  to  be  fetched  from  the  Tower 
and  led  into  Guildhall,  where  he  was  arraigned  before  the  mayor 
and  other  of  the  king's  justices/  Of  his  guilt  there  seems  to 
have  been  neither  doubt  nor  denial.  Holinshed  tells  us  that 
f  being  before  the  king's  justices  put  to  answer,  he  desired  to  be 
tried  by  his  peeres,  for  the  longer  delaie  of  his  life.  The  capteine 
perceiving  his  dilatorie  plea,  by  force  tooke  him  from  the  officers, 
and  brought  him  to  the  standard  in  Cheape ; '  where  he  suffered 
military  execution,  a  result  which,  in  the  excited  state  of  public 
sentiment,  probably  could  not  have  been  averted,  and  which  the 
heavy  catalogue  of  his  crimes,  and  the  certainty  that  the  queen, 
had  time  been  afforded,  would  have  shielded  him,  perhaps 
justified.  William  Croumer,  his  brother-in-law  and  instrument, 
and  one  of  those  charged  before  Parliament,  suffered  at  the  same 
time.  These  executions  are  bitterly  denounced  by  the  chroniclers ; 
but,  according  to  their  own  accounts,  Aylmere  punished  more  of 
his  own  men  for  violations  of  the  law,  than  he  did  of  those  whose 


238  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  Vitw. 

crimes  and  cruelty  had  provoked  the  insurrection ;  and  it  may 
be  doubted  whether  history  affords  an  instance  of  greater  modera- 
tion and  lenity,  under  circumstances  so  peculiar,  than  were 
exhibited  by  him,  with  the  oppressors  of  his  country  in  his 
power,  and  a  maddened  people  calling  for  justice. 

"  The  leader  of  the  Commons  continued,  from  a  regard  for  the 
public  safety,  to  occupy  his  position  in  Southwark  until  the 
sixth  of  July.  During  this  period  it  is  alleged  that,  in  two 
instances,  he  made  requisitions  upon  wealthy  citizens  of  London ; 
and,  indeed,  it  was  only  by  such  means  that  so  large  a  host 
could  have  been  sustained.  This  appears  to  have  alarmed  the 
mayor  and  aldermen  ;  and  it  is  also  probable  that  the  utmost 
vigilance  and  rigour  did  not  wholly  repress  occasional  outrages 
of  a  character  to  excite  the  fears  of  the  more  wealthy  citizens. 
The  aid  of  Lord  Scallys  and  Sir  Matthew  Gough,  ( then  having 
the  Tower  in  guiding/  was,  under  these  apprehensions,  solicited 
to  prevent  the  re-entrance  of  Aylmere  into  London.  This 
induced  a  collision,  '  and  a  battle  or  bloody  scuffle  was  continued 
during  the  night  on  London  Bridge,  in  which  success  seemed  to 
incline  to  the  insurgents/ — (Mackintosh.)  In  the  morning  a 
truce  for  certain  hours  was  effected,  during  which  a  negotiation 
took  place  between  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  representing 
the  king,  and  the  captain  of  the  Commons.  On  the  part  of  the 
former,  everything  would  naturally  be  promised,  for  it  was 
designed  that  no  promise  should  be  observed  ;  and  a  covenant 
for  all  that  was  demanded  was  as  readily  violated  as  one  for  a 
part.  The  leader  of  the  Commons  must  have  been  conscious 
that  his  force  could  only  be  maintained  by  a  forcible  and 
necessarily  unpopular  levy  of  contributions ;  and  that  even  if 
maintained,  their  impatience  of  discipline  and  anxiety  to  return 
to  their  homes  rendered  them  unfit  for  the  protracted  struggle 
that  seemed  impending.  To  continue  in  the  field  threatened  the 
worst  horrors  of  civil  war,  a  war  in  which  he  could  have  but 
little  hope  of  long  restraining  his  followers.  Every  consideration 
of  humanity  and  patriotism  seemed  therefore  to  dictate  an 
acceptance  of  the  proffered  concessions  of  the  court.  The  compact 
was  therefore  concluded ;  and  the  Commons  thus  won  a  seeming 
triumph.  What  was  covenanted  on  the  part  of  the  court  does 
not  appear ;  for  the  chroniclers  are  silent  on  that  head,  and  the 
people  '  had  no  historians/  Fabyan,  however,  informs  us  that 


"  King  Henry  VI."— Part  II.  239 

cthe  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  then  Chancellor  of  England, 
sent  a  general  pardon  to  the  captain  for  himself,  and  another  for 
his  people ;  by  reason  whereof  he  and  his  company  departed  the 
same  night  out  of  South  wark,  and  so  returned  every  man  to  his 
home/ 

"  The  sequel  is  briefly  told ;  it  is  the  old  tale  of  perfidy  and 
blood.  The  pardon  was  immediately  revoked.  '  Proclamations 
were  made  in  divers  places  of  Kent,  of  Southsex,  and  Sowthery, 
that  who  might  take  the  aforesaid  Jack  Cade,  either  alive  or 
dead,  should  have  a  thousand  marks  for  his  travayle/  He  was 
pursued  and  slain ;  '  and  so  being  dead  was  brought  into  South  - 
wark.  And  upon  the  morrow  the  dead  corpse  was  drawn  through 
the  high  streets  of  the  city,  unto  Newgate,  and  there  headed  and 
quartered,  whose  head  was  then  sent  to  London  Bridge,  and  his 
four  quarters  were  sent  to  four  sundry  towns  of  Kent/ — 
(Fabyan.)  » 

Nothing  can  gainsay  these  historical  facts ;  and  to  adopt  the 
expression  of  Judge  Conrad,  it  would  be  difficult  to  conceive  a 
leader  of  nobler  or  purer  purposes  than  Cade,  or  "  to  imagine 
holier  motives  to  justify  resistance  to  oppression/'  than  those 
above  set  forth.  And  yet  we  behold  how  our  poet,  who  is  still 
worshipped  as  a  god  by  the  English-speaking  race  and  who 
almost  divides  the  authority  of  the  Bible  in  every  American 
as  well  as  English  household,  deliberately  inverts  every  fact,  in 
the  interest  of  falsehood,  selfishness  and  tyranny. 


240   Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

"KING  HENRY  vi." — PAIIT  n.  (CONTINUED). 

REBELLION    OP    CADE. 

THE  foregoing  historical  facts,  when  read  in  contrast  with  our 
poet's  wanton  perversion  of  them  in  the  above  entitled  play, 
bring  his  character  for  truth  and  fair  dealing  to  a  crisis.  How- 
ever much  we  may  have  been  disposed  to  humour  other  portions 
of  his  text,  and  to  tread  fastidiously  when  charging  him  with 
want  of  sympathy  for  the  poorer  classes,  it  is  obvious  that  there 
can  be  no  two  opinions  about  his  treatment  of  Cade;  and  we 
resign  ourselves,  without  further  struggle,  to  the  feeling  of  pain 
and  disappointment  which  must  afflict  every  admirer  of  Shake- 
speare's genius,  at  his  deficiency  of  better  nature. 

Unfortunately,  there  is  no  way  of  conceiving  an  excuse  which 
can  be  creditable  to  our  poet  for  his  misrepresentation  of  the 
Kentish  patriot.  There  was  no  uncertainty  about  the  sources  of 
his  information.  He  had  the  truth  laid  before  him  by  the  same 
chroniclers  whom  he  had  taken  as  his  guides  in  his  previous 
dramatic  histories;  but  here,  when  these  accepted  servants  of 
his  muse  present  him  with  a  glorious  character  in  a  man  of 
humble  birth,  he  wilfully  falsifies  every  material  fact  concerning 
him,  and  consigns  the  popular  cause  he  represents,  to  ridicule 
not  only,  but  even  to  execration.  The  daring  young  leader, 
who  is  described  by  Hall  and  Holinshed  as  "  a  certain  young 
man  of  goodlie  stature,  and  right  pregnaunt  of  wit"  (intellect), 
he  deliberately  represents  as  a  mean,  vulgar  clown ;  and,  in  the 
very  face  of  the  proofs  that  Cade  maintained  a  correspondence 
with  the  king's  representatives  at  London,  and  that  "  his  letters 
of  safeguard  to  citizens  passing  to  and  fro  from  the  camp  and 
city  were  formally  and  well  drawn/'  our  poet  chooses  to  make 
him  figure  as  an  utterly  illiterate  brute,  who  condemns  persons 
to  death  merely  for  knowing  how  to  read  and  write. 


"King  Henry  VI"— Part  I L  241 

What  makes  this  more  singular  is,  that  the  natural  instinct  of 
a  poet  should  have  led  Shakespeare  to  the  cause  of  the  Liberator 
and  the  People.  The  theme  was  magnificent.  The  situation  was 
new.to  letters  and  the  stage.  The  temptations  to  dramatic  effect 
were  almost  irresistible ;  and  how  all  these  inducements  to  the 
truth  could  have  been  resisted,  with  the  example  of  even  the  old 
court  chroniclers  to  invite  the  poet  towards  liberality,  is  a  matter 
purely  for  amazement. 

It  could  hardly  have  been  possible  that  such  extreme  syco- 
phancy was  gratifying  to  a  nobleman  of  such  intellectual  breadth 
as  Essex,  nor  yet  to  his  other  patron  the  young  Earl  of  Southamp- 
ton ;  for  they  were  knights,  and  the  generous  spirit  of  chivalry 
had  already  for  generations  been  emulating  Christianity,  in 
inculcating  admiration  and  respect  for  courage  and  high  purpose, 
even  in  an  enemy.  We  are  thrown  back  upon  our  conjectures, 
therefore,  hopeless  of  a  reason,  except  between  toadyism  and 
venality,  and  even  between  these  we  are  unable  to  conceive  a 
motive  adequate  to  the  perversion.  The  incident,  consequently, 
leaves  us  as  much  puzzled  as  we  were  by  our  poet's  complacent 
patronage  of  the  unparalleled  perfidy  of  Prince  John  of  Lancaster, 
and  we  therefore,  remain  still  unsettled  as  to  the  problem  con- 
cerning his  conscience  and  his  heart. 

We  may  now  proceed  to  the  examination  of  the  text  of  the 
Second  Part  of  "  King  Henry  VI.,"  giving  the  illustrations 
which  bear  upon  the  popular  branch  of  our  inquiry  as  they 
come  in  order.  The  first  of  these  occurs  in  the  third  scene 
of  Act  I.,  where  York  denounces  an  armourer's  apprentice  : — 

YOEK.  Base,  dunghill  villain,  and  mechanical, 

I'll  have  thy  head  for  this  thy  traitor's  speech. — 

I  do  beseech  your  royal  majesty, 

Let  him  have  all  the  rigour  of  the  law. 

The  next  presents  a  singular  instance  of  the  extent  of  Shake- 
speare's familiarity  with  the  intricacies  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
faith.  The  court  is  assembled  in  the  palace  at  St.  Alban's ;  and 
King  Henry,  hearing  a  tumult  outside,  is  informed  that  the  towns- 
men are  coming  in  procession  to  present  to  his  majesty  a  blind 
man,  who  had  been  miraculously  restored  to  sight,  upon  which 
the  king  remarks  : — 

Great  is  his  comfort  in  tliis  earthly  vale, 
Although  by  sight  his  sin  be  multiplied. 


242  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

11  That  is  to  say/'  remarks  Dowden,  in  his  admirable  essay  on 
Shakespeare's  mind  and  art,  "  if  we  had  the  good  fortune  to  be 
deprived  of  all  of  our  senses  and  appetites,  we  should  have  a  fair 
chance  of  being-  quite  spotless ;  yet,  let  us  thank  God  for  His 
mysterious  goodness  to  this  man  ! "  Dowden's  translation  of 
this  couplet  is,  no  doubt,  correct,  for  in  turning  over  the  leaves  of 
"  The  Imitation  of  Christ/'  by  Thomas  a  Kempis,  a  standard 
book  of  Catholic  worship,  I  find,  what  appears  to  me  to  be 
the  fountain  of  this  theory,  in  the  following  paragraphs  : — 

"  For  every  inclination  which  appears  good  is  not  presently 
to  be  followed,  nor  every  contrary  affection  at  first  sight  to  be 
rejected. 

"  Even  in  good  desires  and  inclinations  it  is  expedient  some- 
time to  use  some  restraint,  lest  by  too  much  eagerness  thou 
incur  distraction  of  mind;  lest  thou  create  scandal  to  others 
by  not  keeping  within  discipline,  or  even  lest,  by  the  opposi- 
tion which  thou  mayst  meet  with  from  others,  thou  be  suddenly 
disturbed  and  fall."  x 

The  next  instance  applies  to  Shakespeare's  aristocratic  lean- 
ings :— 

YOEK.  Let  pale-faced  fear  keep  with  the  mean-lorn  man, 
And  find  no  harbour  in  a  royal  heart. 
*  *  * 

And  for  the  minister  of  my  intent, 

I  have  seduced  a  headstrong  Kentishman, 

John  Cade  of  Ashford. 

To  make  commotion,  as  full  well  he  can, 

Under  the  title  of  John  Mortimer. 

In  Ireland  have  I  seen  this  stubborn  Cade 

Oppose  himself  against  a  troop  of  kernes ; 

And  fought  so  long  till  that  his  thighs  with  darts 

Were  almost  like  a  sharp-quill'd  porcupine : 

And,  in  the  end  being  rescued,  I  have  seen 

Him  caper  upright,  like  a  wild  Morisco  ; 

Shaking  the  bloody  darts,  as  he  his  bells. 

Full  often,  like  a  shag-hair'd  crafty  kerne, 

Hath  he  conversed  with  the  enemy, 

And  undiscover'd  come  to  me  again, 

And  given  me  notice  of  their  villainies. 

This  devil  here  shall  be  my  substitute ; 

1  Thomas  a  Ivempis'  "  Imitation  of  Christ,"  p.  206,  Edition  of  Benziger 
Brothers,  New  York,  1873. 


"King  Henry  VI"— Part  II.  243 

For  that  John  Mortimer,  which  now  is  dead, 
In  face,  in  gait,  in  speech,  he  doth  resemble  : 
By  this  I  shall  perceive  the  commons'  mind, 
How  they  affect  the  house  and  claim  of  York. 
Say,  he  he  taken,  rack'd,  and  tortured, 
I  know,  no  pain  they  can  inflict  upon  him 
"Will  make  him  say  I  moved  him  to  those  arms. 
Say,  that  he  thrive,  as  't  is  great  like  he  will, 
Why,  then  from  Ireland  come  I  with  strength, 
And  reap  the  harvest  which  that  rascal  sow'd ; 
For,  Humphrey  being  dead,  as  he  shall  be, 
And  Henry  put  apart,  then  next  for  me. 

Act  III.  Scene  1. 

The  rumour  of  the  above  adoption  of  Cade  by  the  Duke  of 
York  was  doubtless  greedily  accepted  by  Shakespeare  from  the 
chroniclers,  with  the  view  of  degrading  Cade's  purposes  in  the 
rising  just  then  about  to  follow. 

The  following  occurs  in  a  quarrel,  during  the  next  scene, 
between  Suffolk  and  Warwick  : — 

SUP    Blunt-witted  lord,  ignoble  in  demeanour  ! 
If  ever  lady  wrong'd  her  lord  so  much, 
Thy  mother  took  into  her  blameful  bed 
Some  stern  untutor'd  chufl,  and  noble  stock 
Was  graft  with  crab-tree  slip  ;  whose  fruit  tlwu  artt 
And  never  of  the  Nevil's  noble  race. 

*  *  * 

"Pis  like,  the  commons,  rude  unpolish'd  hinds, 
Could  send  such  message  to  their  sovereign : 
But  you,  my  lord,  were  glad  to  be  employ 'd, 
To  show  how  quaint  an  orator  you  are  : 
But  all  the  honour  Salisbury  hath  won, 
Is — that  he  was  the  lord  ambassador, 
Sent  from  a  sort  of  tinkers  to  the  king. 

Suffolk  being  taken  prisoner  by  the  captain  of  a  boat,  is 
threatened  with  immediate  death,  without  hope  of  ransom,  and 
thus  attempts  to  overawe  his  captor : — 

SUF.  Obscure  and  lowly  swain,  King  Henry  s  blood, 
The  honourable  blood  of  Lancaster, 
Must  not  be  shed  by  such  a.  jaded  groom. 
Hast  thou  not  kiss'd  my  hand,  and  held  my  stirrup  ? 
Bare-headed  plodded  by  my  foot-cloth  mule, 
And  thought  thee  happy  when  I  shook  my  head? 
How  often  hast  thou  waited  at  my  cup, 


244  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Fed  from  my  trencher,  kneel'd  down  at  the  "board, 
When  I  have  feasted  with  Queen  Margaret  ? 
Kemember  it,  and  let  it  make  thee  crest-fall'n  ; 
Ay,  and  allay  this  thy  abortive  pride  : 
How  in  our  voiding  lobby  hast  thou  stood, 
And  duly  waited  for  my  coming  forth  ? 

*  *  * 

0  that  I  were  a  god,  to  shoot  forth  thunder 
Upon  these  paltry,  servile,  abject  drudges  ! 

Small  things  make  base  men  proud :  this  villain  here, 

Being  captain  of  a  pinnace,  threatens  more 

Than  Bargulus,  the  strong,  Illyrian  pirate. 

Drones  suck  not  eagles'  blood,  but  rob  beehives. 

It  is  impossible,  that  I  should  die 

33 y  such  a  lotuly  vassal  as  thyself. 

Thy  words  move  rage,  and  not  remorse  in  me  : 

1  go  of  message  from  the  queen  to  France ; 

I  charge  thee,  waft  me  safely  cross  the  channel. 

#  #  * 
True  nobility  is  exempt  from  fear  : 
More  can  I  bear  than  you  dare  execute  ! 

Nevertheless,  the  captain  of  the  pinnace  lays  Suffolk's  head  on 
the  gunwale  of  his  boat  and  strikes  it  off. 

Act  IV.  Scene  2. — Blackheath. 

Drum.    Enter  CADE,  DICK  the  Butcher,  SMITH  the  Weaver,  and  others  in 

great  number. 

CADE.  We,  John  Cade,  so  termed  of  our  supposed  father, — 

DICK.  Or  rather,  of  stealing  a  cade  of  herrings.  [Aside. 

CADE.  for  our  enemies  shall  fall  before  us,  inspired  with  the  spirit 

of  putting  down  kings  and  princes, — Command  silence. 

DICK.  Silence ! 

CADE.  My  father  was  a  Mortimer, — 

DICK.  He  was  an  honest  man,  and  a  good  bricklayer,  [Aside. 

CADE.  My  mother  a  Plantagenet, — 

DICK.  I  knew  her  well,  she  was  a  midwife.  [Aside. 

CADE.  My  wife  descended  of  the  Lacies, — 

DICK.  She  was,  indeed,  a  pedlar's  daughter,  and  sold  many  laces.    [Aside. 

SMITH.  But,  now  of  late,  not  able  to  travel  with  her  furred  pack,  she 
washes  bucks  here  at  home.  [Aside. 

CADE.  Therefore  am  I  of  an  honourable  house. 

DICK.  Ay,  by  my  faith,  the  field  is  honourable ;  and  there  was  he  born, 
under  a  hedge ;  for  his  father  had  never  a  house,  but  the  cage.  [Aside. 

CADE.  Valiant  I  am. 

SMITH.  'A  must  needs  ;  for  beggary  is  valiant.  [Aside. 

CADE.  I  am  able  to  endure  much. 


"  King  Henry  VI ."—Part  II.  245 

DICK.  No  question  of  that ;  for  I  have  seen  him  whipped  three  market 
days  together.  [Aside. 

CADE.  I  fear  neither  sword  nor  fire. 

SMITH.  He  need  not  fear  the  sword,  for  his  coat  is  of  proof.  [Aside. 

DICK.  But,  methinks,  he  should  stand  in  fear  of  fire,  being  burnt  i'  the 
hand  for  stealing  of  sheep.  •  [Aside. 

CADE.  Be  brave,  then  ;  for  your  captain  is  brave,  and  vows  reformation. 
There  shall  be,  in  England,  seven  half-penny  loaves  sold  for  a  penny :  the 
three-hooped  pot  shall  have  ten  hoops ;  and  I  will  make  it  felony,  to  drink 
small  beer:  all  the  realm  shall  be  in  common,  and  in  Cheapside  shall  my 
palfrey  go  to  grass.  And,  when  I  am  king,  (as  king  I  will  be) — 

ALL.  God  save  your  majesty  ! 

CADE.  I  thank  you,  good  people : — there  shall  be  no  money  ;  all  shall  eat 
and  drink  on  my  score ;  and  I  will  apparel  them  all  in  one  livery,  that  they 
may  agree  like  brothers,  and  worship  me  their  lord. 

DICK.  The  first  thing  we  do,  let's  kill  all  the  lawyers. 

CADE.  Nay,  that  I  mean  to  do.  Is  not  this  a  lamentable  thing  that  of  the 
skin  of  an  innocent  lamb  should  be  made  parchment  ?  that  parchment,  being 
scribbled  o'er  should  undo  a  man  ?  Some  say,  the  bee  stings :  but  I  say,  'tis 
the  bee's  wax,  for  I  did  but  seal  once  to  a  thing,  and  I  was  never  mine  own 
man  since.  How  now  !  who's  there  ? 

Enter  some,  bringing  in  the  Cleric  of  Chatham. 

SMITH.  The  clerk  of  Chatham  :  he  can  write,  and  read,  and  cast  accompt 

CADE.  O,  monstrous  ! 

SMITH.  We  took  him  setting  of  boys'  copies. 

CADE.  Here's  a  villain  ! 

SMITH.  H'  as  a  book  in  his  pocket,  with  red  letters  in 't. 

CADE.  Nay,  then  he  is  a  conjuror. 

DICK.  Nay,  he  can  make  obligations  and  write  court -hand. 

CADE.  I  am  sorry  for 't :  the  man  is  a  proper  man,  on  mine  honour ;  unless 
I  find  him  guilty,  he  shall  not  die, — Come  hither,  sirrah,  I  must  examine 
thee  :  what  is  thy  name  ? 

CLERK.  Emmanuel. 

DICK.  They  use  to  write  it  on  the  top  of  letters. — 'T  will  go  hard  with 
you. 

CADE.  Let  me  alone. — Dost  thou  use  to  write  thy  name,  or  hast  thou  a 
mark  to  thyself,  like  an  honest,  plain- dealing  man  ? 

CLERK.  Sir,  I  thank  God  I  have  been  so  well  brought  up  that  I  can  write 
my  name. 

ALL.  He  hath  confessed :  away  with  him  !  he's  a  villain  and  a  traitor. 

CADE.  Away  with  him,  I  say  !  hang  him  with  his  pen  and  ink-horn  about 
his  neck.  \_Exeunt  some  with  the  Clerk. 

Enter  MICHAEL. 

MICH.  Where's  our  general  ? 

CADE.  Here  I  am,  thou  particular  fellow. 

MICH.  Fly,  fly,  fly !  Sir  Humphrey  Stafford  and  his  brother  are  hard  by, 
with  the  king's  forces. 
17 


246  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

CADE.  Stand  !  villain,  stand !  or  I'll  fell  thee  down.     He  shall  be  encoun- 
tered with  a  man  as  good  as  himself:  he  is  but  a  knight  is  'a? 
MICH.  No. 

CADE.  To  equal  him,  I  will  make  myself  a  knight  presently.     [Kneels.'] 
Rise  up  Sir  John  Mortimer.     \_Rises.~\     Now  have  at  him. 
Enter  Sir  HUMPHEEY  STAFFOBD,  and  WILLIAM  Ms  Brother,  with  Drum 

and  Forces. 
STAF.  Rebellious  hinds,  the  filth  and  scum  of  Kent, 

Mark'd  for  the  gallows,  lay  your  weapons  down  : 
Home  to  your  cottage,  forsake  this  groom. 
The  king  is  merciful,  if  you  revolt. 
W.  STAFF.  But  angry,  wrathful,  and  inclined  to  blood, 

If  you  go  forward :  therefore,  yield  or  die. 
CADE.          As  for  these  silken-coated  slaves,  I  pass  not ; 
It  is  to  you,  good  people,  that  I  speak, 
O'er  whom  in  time  to  come  I  hope  to  reign ; 
For  I  am  rightful  heir  unto  the  crown. 
STAF.  Villain  !  thy  father  was  a  plasterer ; 

And  thou  thyself  a  shearman,  art  thou  not? 
CADE.          And  Adam  was  a  gardener. 
W.  STAFF.  And  what  of  that  ? 
CADE.  Marry,  this  : — Edmund  Mortimer,  earl  of  March, 

Married  the  duke  of  Clarence's  daughter,  did  he  not  ? 
STAF.          Ay,  sir. 

CADE.          By  her  he  had  two  children  at  one  birth. 
W.  STAFF.  That's  false. 

CADE.          Ay,  there's  the  question ;  but,  I  say,  'tis  true. 
The  elder  of  them,  being  put  to  nurse, 
Was  by  a  beggar-woman  stol'n  away ; 
And,  ignorant  of  his  birth  and  parentage, 
Became  a  bricklayer  when  he  came  to  age. 
His  son  am  I :  deny  it,  if  you  can. 

DICK.  Nay,  'tis  too  true ;  therefore,  he  shall  be  king. 

SMITH.  Sir,  he  made  a  chimney  in  my  father's  house,  and  the  bricks  are 
alive  at  this  day  to  testify  it ;  therefore,  deny  it  not. 

STAF.  And  will  you  credit  this  base  drudge's  words, 

That  speaks  he  knows  not  what  ? 
ALL.  Ay,  marry,  will  we ;  therefore,  get  ye  gone. 
W.  STAFF.  Jack  Cade,  the  Duke  of  York  hath  taught  you  this. 
CADE.  He  lies,  for  I  invented  it  myself.     [Aside."] — Go  to,  sirrah ;  tell  the 
king  from  me,  that  for  his  father's  sake,  Henry  the  Fifth,  in  whose  time  boys 
went  to  span-counter  for  French  crowns,  I  am  content  he  shall  reign ;  but  I'll 
be  protector  over  him. 

DICK.  And,  furthermore,  we'll  have  the  Lord  Say's  head  for  selling  the 
dukedom  of  Maine. 

CADE.  And  good  reason ;  for  thereby  is  England  maimed,  and  fain  to  go 
with  a  staff,  but  that  my  puissance  holds  it  up.    Fellow  kings,  I  tell  you  that 


"  King  Henry  VI"— Part  II.  247 

that  Lord  Say  hath  gelded  the  commonwealth,  and  made  it  an  eunuch ;  and 
more  than  that,  he  can  speak  French,  and  therefore  he  is  a  traitor. 
STAF.  0  gross  and  miserable  ignorance ! 

CADE.  Nay,  answer,  if  you  can ;  the  Frenchmen  are  our  enemies ;  go  to, 
then,  I  ask  but  this ;  can  he  that  speaks  with  the  tongue  of  an  enemy  be  a 
good  counsellor,  or  no  ? 

ALL.  No,  no ;  and  therefore  we'll  have  his  head. 

W.  STAFF.  Well,  seeing  gentle  words  will  not  prevail, 

Assail  them  with  the  army  of  the  king. 
STAF.  Herald,  away ;  and,  throughout  every  town, 

Proclaim  them  traitors  that  are  up  with  Cade, 
That  those  which  fly  before  the  battle  ends, 
May,  even  in  their  wives'  and  children's  sight, 
Be  hang'd  up  for  example  at  their  doors, — 
All  you,  that  be  the  king's  friends,  follow  me. 

{Exeunt  the  two  STAFFOBDS  and  Forces. 
CADE.          And  you,  that  love  the  commons,  follow  me. — 
Now  show  yourselves  men  ;  'tis  for  liberty. 
We  will  not  leave  one  lord,  one  gentleman ; 
Spare  none  but  such  as  go  in  clouted  shoon, 
For  they  are  thrifty,  honest  men,  and  such 
As  would  (but  that  they  dare  not)  take  our  parts. 
DICE.          They  are  all  in  order,  and  march  toward  us. 
CADE.  But  then  are  we  in  order,  when  we  are  most  out  of  order.     Come ; 
march  forward.  \_Exeunt. 

The  above  is  the  first  use  I  find  of  the  word  "  liberty "  by 
Shakespeare  in  the  form  of  an  appeal  for  human  rights ;  but, 
inasmuch  as  he  puts  the  exclamation  in  the  mouth  of  a  man  who 
executes  people  for  reading1  and  writing,  the  mention  is  obvi- 
ously intended  to  degrade  the  word,  and  to  represent  only  general 
licentiousness  and  licence. 

Scene  3. — Another  part  of  Blackheath. 

Alarums.     The  two  Parties  enter,  and  fight,  and  both  the  STAFFOEDS  are 

slain. 

CADE.  Where's  Dick,  the  butcher  of  Ashford  ? 

Dicz.  Here,  sir. 

CADE.  They  fell  before  thee  like  sheep  and  oxen,  and  thou  behavedst  thy- 
self as  ifthou  hadst  been  in  thine  own  slaughter-house:  therefore,  thus  will 
I  reward  thee, — The  Lent  shall  be  as  long  again  as  it  is ;  and  thou  shalt  have 
a  licence  to  kill  for  a  hundred  years,  lacking  one. 

DICK.  I  desire  no  more. 

CADE.  And,  to  speak  the  truth,  thou  deservest^o  less.  This  monument  of 
the  victory  will  I  bear :  {Putting  on  STAFFORD'S  armour},  and  the  bodies 
shall  be  dragged  at  my  horses'  heels,  till  I  do  come  to  London,  where  we  will 
have  the  mayor's  sword  borne  before  us. 


248  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

DICK.  If  we  mean  to  thrive  and  do  good,  break  open  the  jails,  and  let  out 
the  prisoners. 

CADE.  Fear    not    that,  I  warrant    thee.      Come ;    let's  march  towards 
London.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  4. — London. — A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

K.  HEN.  How  now !  what  news ?  why  com'st  thou  in  such  haste? 
MESS.        The  rebels  are  in  Southward  ;  Fly,  my  lord? 
Jack  Cade  proclaims  himself  lord  Mortimer, 
Descended  from  the  duke  of  Clarence  house ; 
And  calls  your  grace  usurper,  openly, 
And  vows  to  crown  himself  in  Westminster. 
His  army  is  a  ragged  multitude 
Of  hinds  and  peasants,  rude  and  merciless  : 
Sir  Humphrey  Stafford  and  his  brother's  death 
Hath  given  them  heart  and  courage  to  proceed  ; 
All  scholars,  lawyers,  courtiers,  gentlemen 
They  call — false  caterpillars,  and  intend  their  death. 

Enter  another  Messenger. 

2  MESS.     Jack  Cade  hath  gotten  London-bridge ;  the  citizens 
Fly  and  forsake  their  houses  ; 
The  rascal  people,  thirsting  after  prey, 
Join  with  the  traitor  ;  and  they  jointly  swear, 
To  spoil  the  city,  and  your  royal  court. 

*  *  * 

Scene  6. — The  Same. —  Cannon-street. 

Enter  JACK  CADE,  and  his  Followers.     He  strikes  his  staff  on  London- 
stone. 

CADE.  Now  is  Mortimer  lord  of  this  city.    And  here,  sitting  upon  London- 
stone,  I  charge  and  command,  that,  of  the  city's  cost,  the conduit  run 

nothing  but  claret  wine  this  first  year  of  our  reign.     And  now,  henceforward, 
it  shall  be  treason  for  any  that  calls  me  other  than — lord  Mortimer. 

Enter  a  Soldier,  running. 
SOLD.  Jack  Cade !  Jack  Cade ! 

CADE.  Knock  him  down  there.  [They  Jcill  him. 

SMITH.  If  this  fellow  be  wise,  he'll  never  call  you  Jack  Cade  more ;  I 
think,  he  hath  a  very  fair  warning. 

DICK.  My  lord,  there's  an  army  gathered  together  in  Smithfield. 
CADE.  Come  then,  let's  go  fight  with  them :  But,  first,  go  and  set  London 
Bridge  on  fire ;  and,  if  you  can,  burn  down  the  Tower  too.     Come,  let's 
away.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  7.— The  Same.—Smith/ield. 

Alarum.    Enter,  on  one  side,  CADE  and   his   Company ;  on  the  other, 
Citizens,  and  the  King's  Forces,  headed  by  MATTHEW  GOUGH.     They 
fight :  the  Citizens  arts  routed,  and  MATTHEW  GOUGH  is  slain. 
CADE.  So,  sirs  : — Now,  go  some  and  pull  down  the  Savoy  ;  others  to 'the 
inns  of  court ;  down  with  them  all. 


"King  Henry  VI"— Part  II.  249 

DICK.  I  have  a  suit  unto  your  lordship. 

CADE.  Be  it  a  lordship,  thou  shalt  have  it  for  that  word. 

DICK.  Only,  that  the  laws  of  England  may  come  out  of  your  mouth. 

JOHN.  Mass,  'twill  be  sore  law  then ;  for  he  was  thrust  in  the  mouth  with 
a  spear,  and  'tis  not  whole  yet.  [Aside. 

SMITH.  Nay,  John,  it  will  be  stinking  law ;  for  his  breath  stinks  with 
eating  toasted  cheese.  [Aside. 

CADE.  I  have  thought  upon  it,  it  shall  be  so.  Away,  burn  all  the  records 
of  the  realm ;  my  mouth  shall  be  the  parliament  of  England. 

JOHN.  Then  we  are  like  to  have  biting  statutes,  unless  his  teeth  be  pulled 
out.  [Aside. 

CADE.  And  henceforward  all  things  shall  be  in  common. 
Enter  a  Messenger. 

MESS.  My  lord,  a  prize,  a  prize  !  here's  the  lord  Say,  which  sold  the  towns 
in  France,  he  that  made  us  pay  one-and-twenty  fifteens,  and  one  shilling  to 
the  pound,  the  last  subsidy. 

Enter  GEOEGE  BEVIS,  with  the  Lord  SAY. 

CADE.  Well,  he  shall  be  beheaded  for  it  ten  times. — Ah,  thou  say,  thou 
serge,  nay,  thou  buckram  lord !  now  art  thou  within  point  blank  of  our 
jurisdiction  regal.  •  What  canst  thou  answer  to  my  majesty,  for  giving  up  of 
Normandy  unto  Monsieur  Basimecu,  the  dauphin  of  France  ?  Be  it  known 
unto  thee  by  these  presents,  even  the  presence  of  Lord  Mortimer,  that  I  am 
the  besom  that  must  sweep  the  court  clean  of  such  filth  as  thou  art.  Thou 
hast  most  traitorously  corrupted  the  youth  of  the  realm  in  erecting  a 
grammar-school :  and  whereas,  before,  our  forefathers  had  no  other  books  but 
the  score  and  the  tally,  thou  hast  caused  printing  to  be  used ;  and,  contrary 
to  the  king,  his  crown,  and  dignity,  thou  has  built  a  paper-mill.  It  will  be 
proved  to  thy  face,  that  thou  hast  men  about  thee,  that  usually  talk  of  a 
noun,  and  a  verb,  and  such  abominable  words  as  no  Christian  ear  can  endure 
to  hear.  Thou  hast  appointed  justices  of  peace  to  call  poor  men  before  them 
about  matters  they  were  not  able  to  answer  :  moreover,  thou  hast  put  them 
in  prison  ;  and  because  they  could  not  read,  thou  hast  hanged  them ;  when, 
indeed,  only  for  that  cause  they  have  been  most  worthy  to  live.  Thou  dost 
ride  in  a  foot-cloth,  dost  thou  not. 

SAY.  What  of  that? 

CADE.  Marry,  thou  oughtest  not  to  let  thy  horse  wear  a  cloak,  when 
honester  men  than  thou  go  in  their  hose  and  doublets. 

DICK.  And  work  in  their  shirt  too ;  as  myself,  for  example,  that  am  a 
butcher. 

SAY.  You  men  of  Kent, — 

DICK.  What  say  you  of  Kent? 

SAY.  Nothing  but  this  :  'tis  bona  terra,  mala  gens. 

CADE.  Away  with  him !  away  with  him !  he  speaks  Latin. 

SAY.  Hear  me  but  speak,  and  bear  me  where  you  will. 
*  *  # 

Unless  you  be  possess'd  with  devilish  spirits, 
You  cannot  but  forbear  to  murder  me. 


250  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

This  tongue  hatli  parley 'd  unto  foreign  kings 
For  your  behoof. — 

CADE.  Tut !  when  struck'st  thou  one  blow  in  the  field  ? 
SAT.  Great  men  have  reaching  hands  :  oft  have  1  struck 

Those  that  I  never  saw,  and  struck  them  dead. 
GEO.  0,  monstrous  coward !  what,  to  come  behind  folks  ? 
SAT.  These  cheeks  are  pale  for  watching  for  your  good. 
CADE.  Give  him  a  box  o'  the  ear,  and  that  will  make  them  red  again. 
SAY.  Long  sitting,  to  determine  poor  men's  causes, 

Hath  made  me  full  of  sickness  and  diseases. 

CADE.  Ye  shall  have  a  hempen  caudle,  then,  and  the  help  of  hatchet. 
DICK.  Why  dost  thou  quiver,  man  ? 
SAT.  The  palsy,  and  not  fear,  provoketh  me. 

CADE.  Nay,  he  nods  at  us  ;  as  who  should  say,  I'll  be  even  with  you.  I'll 
see  if  his  head  stand  steadier  on  a  pole,  or  no.  Take  him  away  and  behead 
him. 

SAT.         Tell  me,  wherein  have  I  offended  most  ? 

*  *  * 

Whom  have  I  injured,  that  ye  seek  my  death  ? 
These  hands  are  free  from  guiltless  blood-shedding, 
This  breast  from  harbouring  foul  deceitful  thoughts. 
0  !  let  me  live. 

CADE.  I  feel  remorse  in  myself  with  his  words  ;  but  I'll  bridle  it ;  he  shall 
die,  'an  it  be  but  for  pleading  so  well  for  his  life. — Away  with  him  !  he  has  a 
familiar  under  his  tongue :  he  speaks  not  o'  God's  name.  Go,  take  him  away, 
I  say,  and  strike  off  his  head  presently  ;  and  then  break  into  his  son-in-law's 
house,  sir  James  Cromer,  and  strike  off  his  head,  and  bring  them  both  upon 
two  poles  hither. 

ALL.  It  shall  be  done. 

SAT.  Ah,  countrymen !  if  when  you  make  your  prayers, 

God  shall  be  so  obdurate  as  yourselves, 
How  would  it  fare  with  your  departed  souls  ? 
And  therefore  yet  relent  and  save  my  life. 

CADE.  Away  with  him,  and  do  as  I  command  ye.  \JExeunt  some  with 
Lord  SAT.]  The  proudest  peer  in  this  realm  shall  not  wear  a  head  on  his 
shoulders,  unless  he  pay  me  tribute  :  there  shall  not  a  maid  be  married,  but 
she  shall  pay  to  me  her  maidenhead,  ere  they  have  it.  Men  shall  hold  of  me 
in  capite :  and  we  charge  and  command  that  their  wives  be  as  free  as 
heart  can  wish,  or  tongue  can  tell. 

Let  me  here  remark  that  I  can  see  no  reason  why  Shakespeare 
should  be  denied  the  learned  languages,  since  Jack  Cade  can 
quote  Latin. 

DICK.  My  lord,  when  shall  we  go  to  Cheapside,  and  take  up  commodities 
upon  our  bills  ? 

CADE.  Marry,  presently. 


"  King  Henry  VI"— Part  II.  251 

ALL.  0,  brave ! 

Re-enter  Rebels  with  the  heads  of  Lord  SAY  and  his  son-in-law. 
CADE.  But  is  not  this  braver  ? — Let  them  kiss  one  another,  for  they  loved 
well  when  they  were  alive.  {Jowl  them  together.']  Now  part  them  again, 
lest  they  consult  about  the  giving  up  of  some  more  towns  in  France.  Soldiers, 
defer  the  spoil  of  the  city  until  night ;  for,  with  these  borne  before  us,  instead 
of  maces,  will  we  ride  through  the  streets :  and  at  every  corner  have  them 
kiss.— Away  !  [Exeunt. 

Scene  8. — Southward. 

Alarum.     Enter  CADE,  and  all  his  RdbLlement. 

CADE.  Up  Fish-street !  down  Saint  Magnus'  corner !  kill  and  knock  down  ! 
throw  them  into  Thames ! — \_A  Parley  sounded,  then  a  RetreatJ]  What 
noise  is  this  I  hear  ?  Dare  any  be  so  bold  to  sound  retreat  or  parley,  when  I 
command  them  kill  ? 

Enter  BUCKINGHAM,  and  Old  CLIFFORD,  with  Forces. 
BUCK.  Ay,  here  they  be  that  dare,  and  will  disturb  thee : 
Know,  Cade,  we  come  ambassadors  from  the  king 
Unto  the  commons  whom  thou  hast  misled : 
And  here  pronounce  free  pardon  to  them  all, 
That  will  forsake  thee,  and  go  home  in  peace. 
CLIF.    What  say  ye,  countrymen  ?  will  ye  repent 
And  yield  to  mercy,  whilst  'tis  oifer'd  you, 
Or  let  a  rebel  lead  you  to  your  deaths  ? 
Who  loves  the  king,  and  will  embrace  his  pardon, 
Fling  up  his  cap,  and  say — God  save  his  majesty  ! 
Who  hateth  him,  and  honours  not  his  father, 
Henry  the  Fifth,  that  made  all  France  to  quake, 
Shake  he  his  weapon  at  us,  and  pass  by. 
ALL.     God  save  the  king  !  God  save  the  king ! 

CADE.  What,  Buckingham,  and  Clifford,  are  ye  so  brave  ? — And  you  base 
peasants,  do  ye  believe  him  ?  will  you  needs  be  hanged  with  your  pardons 
about  your  necks  ?  Hath  my  sword  therefore  broke  through  London  Gates, 
that  you  should  leave  me  at  the  White  Hart  in  Southwark  ?  I  thought,  ye 
would  never  have  given  out  these  arms,  till  you  had  recovered  your  ancient 
freedom :  but  you  are  all  recreants,  and  dastards  ;  and  delight  to  live  in 
slavery  to  the  nobility.  Let  them  break  your  backs  with  burdens,  take  your 
houses  over  your  heads,  ravish  your  wives  and  daughters  before  your  faces  : 
For  me, — I  will  make  shift  for  one  ;  and  so — God's  curse  light  upon  you  all. 
ALL.  We'll  follow  Cade,  we'll  follow  Cade. 

CLIF.  Is  Cade  the  son  of  Henry  the  Fifth, 

That  thus  you  do  exclaim — you'll  go  with  him  ? 
Will  he  conduct  you  through  the  heart  of  France, 
And  make  the  meanest  of  you  earls  and  dukes  ? 
Alas,  he  hath  no  home,  no  place  to  fly  to ; 
Nor  knows  he  how  to  live,  but  by  the  spoil, 
Unless  by  robbing  of  your  friends,  and  us. 
Wer't  not  a  shame,  that  whilst  you  live  at  jar, 


Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

The  fearful  French,  whom  you  late  vanquished, 
Should  make  a  start  o'er  seas,  and  vanquish  you  ? 
Methinks  already,  in  this  civil  broil, 
I  see  them  lording  it  in  London  streets, 
Crying — Villageois !  unto  all  they  meet. 
Better,  ten  thousand  base-horn  Cades  miscarry, 
Than  you  should  stoop  unto  a  Frenchman's  mercy. 
To  France,  to  France,  and  get  what  you  have  lost ; 
Spare  England,  for  it  is  your  native  coast : 
Henry  hath  money,  you  are  strong  and  manly ; 
God  on  our  side,  doubt  not  of  victory. 

ALL.  A  Clifford !  a  Clifford !  we'll  follow  the  king,  and  Clifford. 
CADE.  Was  ever  feather  so  lightly  blown  to  and  fro,  as  this  multitude?  the 
name  of  Henry  the  Fifth  hales  them  to  an  hundred  mischiefs,  and  makes 
them  leave  me  desolate.  I  see  them  lay  their  heads  together,  to  surprise  me  : 
my  sword  make  way  for  me,  for  here  is  no  staying.  In  despite  of  the  devils 
and  hell,  have  through  the  very  midst  of  you  !  and  heavens  and  honour  be 
witness,  that  no  want  of  resolution  in  me,  but  only  my  followers'  base  and 
ignominious  treasons,  makes  me  betake  to  my  heels.  [Exit. 

BUCK.    What,  is  he  fled  ?  go,  some,  and  follow  him  ; 
And  he,  that  brings  his  head  unto  the  king 
Shall  have  a  thousand  crowns  for  his  reward. 

\Exeunt  some  of  them. 
Follow  me,  soldiers ;  we'll  devise  a  mean ; 
To  reconcile  you  all  unto  the  king.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  10. — Kent.    Iden's  Garden 

Enter  CADE. 

CADE.  Fy  on  ambition  !  fy  on  myself;  that  have  a  sword,  and  yet  am 
ready  to  famish  !  These  five  days  have  I  hid  me  in  these  woods ;  and  durst 
not  peep  out,  for  all  the  country  is  lay'd  for  me  ;  but  now  am  I  so  hungry, 
that  if  I  might  have  a  lease  of  my  life  for  a  thousand  years,  I  could  stay  no 
longer.  Wherefore,  on  a  brick  wall  have  I  climbed  into  this  garden ;  to  see 
if  I  can  eat  grass,  or  pick  a  sallet  another  while,  which  is  not  amiss  to  cool 
a  man's  stomach  this  hot  weather.  And,  I  think,  this  word  sallet  was  born 
to  do  me  good  :  for,  many  a  time,  but  for  a  sallet,  my  brain-pan  had  been 
cleft  with  a  brown  bill ;  and,  many  a  time,  when  I  have  been  dry,  and 
bravely  marching,  it  hath  serv'd  me  instead  of  a  quart  pot  to  drink  in  ;  And 
now  the  one  word  sallet  must  serve  me  to  feed  on. 

Enter  IDEN,  with  Servants. 

IDEIST.  Lord,  who  would  live  turmoiled  in  the  court, 
And  may  enjoy  such  quiet  walks  as  these  ? 
This  small  inheritance,  my  father  left  me, 
Contenteth  me,  and  is  worth  a  monarchy. 
I  seek  not  to  wax  great  by  others'  waning ; 
Or  gather  wealth,  I  care  not  with  what  envy ; 
Sufficeth,  that  I  have  maintains  my  state, 
And  sends  the  poor  well  pleased  from  my  gate. 


"  King  Henry  VI" — Part  II.  253 

CADE.  Here's  the  lord  of  the  soil  come  to  seize  me  for  a  stray,  for  entering 
his  fee-simple  without  leave.  Ah,  villain,  thou  wilt  betray  me,  and  get  a 
thousand  crowns  of  the  king  for  carrying  my  head  to  him :  but  I'll  make 
thee  eat  iron  like  an  ostrich,  and  swallow  my  sword  like  a  great  pin,  ere  thou 
and  I  part. 

IDEN.  Why,  rude  companion,  whatsoe'er  thou  be, 

I  know  thee  not ;  Why  then  should  I  betray  thee  ? 
Is't  not  enough  to  break  into  my  garden, 
And,  like  a  thief,  to  come  to  rob  my  grounds, 
Climbing  my  walls  in  spite  of  me  the  owner, 
But  thou  wilt  brave  me  with  these  saucy  terms  ? 

CADE.  Brave  thee  ?  ay,  by  the  best  blood  that  ever  was  broached,  and 
beard  thee  too.  Look  on  me  well :  1  have  eat  no  meat  these  five  days  :  yet, 
oome  thou  and  thy  five  men,  and  if  I  do  not  leave  you  all  as  dead  as  a  door 
nail,  I  pray  God,  I  may  never  eat  grass  more. 

IDEN.  Nay,  it  shall  ne'er  be  said  while  England  stands, 
That  Alexander  Iden,  an  esquire  of  Kent, 
Took  odds  to  combat  a  poor  famish'd  man. 
Oppose  thy  stedfast  gazing  eyes  to  mine, 
See  if  thou  canst  outface  me  with  thy  looks. 
Set  limb  to  limb,  and  thou  art  far  the  lesser ; 
Thy  hand  is  but  a  finger  to  my  fist ; 
Thy  leg  a  stick,  compared  with  this  truncheon ; 
My  foot  shall  fight  with  all  the  strength  thou  hast ; 
And  if  my  arm  be  heaved  in  the  air, 
Thy  grave  is  digg'd  already  in  the  earth. 
As  for  more  words,  whose  greatness  answers  words, 
Let  this  my  sword  report  what  speech  forbears. 

CADE.  By  my  valour,  the  most  complete  champion  that  ever  I  heard. 
Steel,  if  thou  turn  the  edge,  or  cut  not  out  the  burley-boned  clown  in  chines 
of  beef  ere  thou  sleop  in  thy  sheath,  I  beseech  God  on  my  knees,  thou  mayest 
be  turned  to  hobnails.  [They  fight.  CADE  fallsJ]  O,  I  am  slain  !  famine, 
and  no  other,  hath  slain  me ;  let  ten  thousand  devils  come  against  me,  and 
give  me  but  the  ten  meals  I  have  lost,  and  I'd  defy  them  all.  Wither, 
garden,  and  be  henceforth  a  burying-place  to  all  that  do  dwell  in  this  house, 
because  the  unconquered  soul  of  Cade  is  fled. 

IDEN.  Is't  Cade  that  I  have  slain,  that  monstrous  traitor  ? 
Sword,  I  will  hallow  thee  for  this  thy  deed, 
And  hang  thee  o'er  my  tomb,  when  I  am  dead  : 
Ne'er  shall  this  blood  be  wiped  from  thy  point, 
But  thou  shalt  wear  it  as  a  herald's  coat, 
To  emblaze  the  honour  that  thy  master  got. 

CADE.  Iden,  farewell ;  and  be  proud  of  thy  victory.  Tell  Kent  from  me, 
she  hath  lost  her  best  man,  and  exhort  all  the  world  to  be  cowards ;  for  I, 
that  never  feared  any,  am  vanquished  by  famine,  not  by  valour.  [Dies. 

IDEN.  How  much  thou  wrong'st  me,  heaven  be  my  judge. 

-  Die,  damned  wretch,  the  curse  of  him  that  bare  thee  ! 


254  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

And  as  I  thrust  thy  body  with  my  sword, 
So  wish  I,  I  might  thrust  thy  soul  to  hell. 
Hence  will  I  drag  tliee  headlong  by  the  heels, 
Unto  a  dunghill,  which  shall  be  thy  grave, 
And  there  cut  off  thy  most  ungracious  head  ; 
Which  I  will  bear  in  triumph  to  the  king, 
Leaving  thy  trunk  for  crows  to  feed  upon. 

[Exit,  dragging  out  the  Body. 

This  closes  the  cruel  caricature  and  defamation  of  a  leader 
of  the  stamp  of  William  Tell,  Rienzi,  or  Marco  Bozzaris,  and  who, 
but  for  Shakespeare,  would  have  been  the  theme  of  many  a 
lofty  lyre ;  perhaps  the  subject  for  ages,  of  the  prayer  and  song 
of  the  nation  whose  good  fortune  it  had  been  to  profit  by  his 
sacrifices.  Truly  English  worship  of  social  superiority  is  almost 
inexplicable  when  contrasted  with  the  decorous  subjection  to 
lawful  authority  to  be  found  in  other  lands;  but  with  such 
examples  as  this  play  before  us,  we  know  where  to  trace  the 
infatuation  to  its  source ;  and  it  is  melancholy  to  reflect,  that  a 
transcendent  genius,  who  could  have  done  so  much  to  lift  popular 
thought,  should  always  have  endeavoured  to  degrade  it.  Shake- 
speare might  have  condemned  Cade  and  his  cause  in  reason- 
able terms,  and  been  to  some  extent  forgiven,  but  the  spon- 
taneous and  malignant  execration  which  he  lavishes  upon  the 
dead  patriot,  in  the  interest  of  the  nobles,  is  simply  intolerable. 
Indeed,  it  would  be  a  positive  relief  to  us,  to  be  able  to 
attribute  the  political  tendencies  of  Shakespeare's  text  to  Sir 
Francis  Bacon,  who  was  educated  to  despise  the  People.  The 
charm  which  attends  our  poet's  genius  still  prevails,  but  the 
spell  has  lost  a  great  portion  of  its  force,  and  can  no  longer  prevent 
the  condemnation  of  the  poet's  principles  by  the  English-speaking 
and  liberty-loving  people  of  America.  And,  as  much  may  be 
said  for  the  rugged  intelligence  and  resolute  progress  of  the 
present  liberty -loving  English  masses. 


"  King  Henry  VI ?— Part  1L  255 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


THE  Third  Part  of  "  Henry  VI."  affords  us  fewer  illustrations 
than  any  of  the  previous  plays.  The  first  incident  which  strikes 
our  attention  appears  in  the  second  scene  of  Act  1,  and  bears 
upon  the  question  of  Shakespeare's  legal  acquirements ;  inasmuch 
as  it  exhibits  a  very  correct  idea,  as  far  as  it  goes,  of  the  legal 
crime  of  "  perjury/'  as  distinguished  from  mere  false  swearing. 

EDWARD.  But  for  a  kingdom,  any  oath  may  be  broken. 
EICHABD.  An  oath  is  of  no  moment,  being  not  took 

Before  a  true  and  lawful  magistrate 

That  hath  authority  over  him  that  swears. 

The  above  legal  illustration  seems  to  have  escaped  the  observa- 
tion of"  Lord  Campbell. 

YOEK.        Five  men  to  twenty  !  though  the  odds  be  great 

1  doubt  not,  uncle,  of  our  victory. 

Many  a  battle  have  I  won  in  France  ; 

When  as  the  enemy  hath  been  ten  to  one.  Act  I.  Scene  2. 

CLIF.          The  common  people  swarm  like  summer  flies, 

And  whither  fly  the  gnats  but  to  the  sun.        Act  II.  Scene  6. 
Enter  KING  HENEY  (disguised  as  a  churchman)  with  a  prayer,  book. 
K.  HEN.    From  Scotland  am  I  stol'n,  even  of  pure  love, 

To  greet  mine  own  land  with  my  wishful  sight. 

No,  Harry,  Harry,  'tis  no  land  of  thine  ; 

Thy  place  is  fill'd,  thy  sceptre  wrung  from  thee, 

Thy  balm  -tvash'd  off,  wherewith  thou  tvast  anointed  : 

No  bending  knee  will  call  thee  Caesar  now, 

No  humble  suitors  press  to  speak  for  right, 

No,  not  a  man  comes  for  redress  from  thee ; 

For  how  can  I  help  them,  and  not  myself. 

*  *  * 
K.  HEN.    I  was  anointed  king  at  nine  months  old. 

*  *  * 
Why,  am  I  dead  ?  do  I  not  breathe  a  man  ? 
Ah,  simple  men,  you  know  not  what  you  swear. 


256  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Look,  as  I  blow  this  feather  from  my  face, 

And  as  the  air  blows  it  to  me  again, 

Obeying  with  my  wind  when  I  do  blow, 

And  yielding  to  another  when  it  blows, 

Commanded  always  by  the  greater  gust ; 

Such  is  the  lightness  of  you  common  men.     Act  III.  Scene  1. 

Q.  MAE.    While  proud  ambitious  Edward,  duke  of  York, 
Usurps  the  regal  title  and  the  seat 
Of  England's  true  anointed  lawful  king.         Act  III.  Scene  3. 

Act  IY.  Scene  6. — Room  in  the  Tower. 
KING  HENEY  to  young  KICHMOND — 
K.  HEN.    Come  hither,  England's  hope  :  If  secret  powers 

[Lays  Ms  hand  on  Ills  head. 
Suggest  but  truth  to  my  divining  thoughts, 
This  pretty  lad  will  prove  our  country's  bliss. 
His  looks  are  full  of  peaceful  majesty ; 
His  head  by  nature  framed  to  wear  a  crown, 
His  hand  to  wield  a  sceptre  ;  and  himself 
Likely,  in  time,  to  bless  a  regal  throne. 
Make  much  of  him,  my  lords ;  for  this  is  he 
•  Must  help  you  more  than  you  are  hurt  by  me. 

K.  EDW.    Now  march  we  hence ;  discharge  the  common  sort 

With  pay  and  thanks.  Act  V.  Scene  5. 

Throughout  this  play,  crime  is  heaped  on  crime  by  the  nobles 
of  all  parties,  with  just  the  same  want  of  scruple  that  the 
politicians  in  America  show  against  one  another  by  false 
votes ;  but  Shakespeare  presides  over  the  shocking  turpitude  of 
his  period  with  seldom  a  word  of  censure,  and  rarely  the  atone- 
ment of  a  moral,  as  if  murder,  perjury,  and  perfidy  of  every  stamp, 
were  the  unquestioned  rights  of  noble  birth.  It  may  be  said 
he  does  the  world  service,  by  showing  these  nobles  in  their  true 
colours;  but  it  must  be  observed  that  one  who  is  commis- 
sioned with  the  capacity  to  write  history,  should  boldly  approve 
good  deeds  and  condemn  bad  ones,  in  order  to  be  worthy  of  his 
task.  Shakespeare,  on  the  contrary,  deals  with  the  villanies  of 
kings  and  nobles  as  if  they  were  among  the  ordinary  privileges  of 
the  ruling  classes,  and  as  if  crime  were  the  inheritance  of  the 
poor.  Even  Clarence,  who  was  one  of  the  murderers  of  Prince 
Edward,  at  Tewkesbury,  is  made  to  enlist  our  sympathy,  by  dying 
almost  like  a  martyr  and  a  saint. 


"  King  Henry  VI"— Part  III.  257 

THE    LEGAL    ACQUIREMENTS     OP     SHAKESPEARE    AS    SHOWN     IN    THE 
HISTORIES    OF   THE    HENRIES.* 

AT  the  close  of  my  review  of  "  Henry  IV.,"  Part  II.,  I  briefly 
stated,  that  "  the  legalisms  exhibited  in  Shakespeare's  behalf,  in 
the  course  of  it,  by  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell,  did  not  call  for 
any  attention  at  my  hands."  Upon  further  reflection,  however,  it 
seems  to  me  that,  inasmuch  as  I  have  heretofore  printed,  almost 
in  extenso,  all  of  Lord  Campbell's  illustrations  on  this  subject,  I 
may  as  well  perfect  that  portion  of  my  task,  by  giving,  even  to 
the  end,  the  substance  of  everything  his  lordship  has  to  say  in 
that  regard.  For,  after  all,  the  question  of  the  respective  legal 
acquirements  of  Bacon  and  of  Shakespeare,  runs  a  line  through 
the  very  centre  of  the  main  inquiry,  the  course  of  which  is 
almost  as  decisive  in  demonstrating  the  debated  point  of  author- 
ship, as  the  question  of  the  respective  religious  creeds  of  the  two 
persons  named. 

In  dealing  with  the  Second  Part  of  ' f  Henry  IV.,"  Lord  Camp- 
bell says,  "  Arguments  have  been  drawn  from  this  drama  against 
Shakespeare's  supposed  great  legal  acquirements.  It  has  been 
objected  to  the  very  amusing  interview,  in  Act  I.  Scene  2, 
between  Falstaff  and  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  that  if  Shakespeare 
had  been  much  of  a  lawyer,  he  would  have  known  that  this  great 
magistrate  could  not  examine  offenders  in  the  manner  supposed, 
and  could  only  take  notice  of  offences  when  they  were  regularly 
prosecuted  before  him  in  the  Court  of  King's  Bench,  or  at  the 
assizes.  But,  although  such  is  the  practice  in  our  days,  so 
recently  as  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century,  that 
illustrious  Judge,  Lord  Chief  Justice  Holt,  acted  as  a  police 
magistrate,  quelling  riots,  taking  depositions  against  parties 
accused,  and,  where  a  prima  facie  case  was  made  out  against 
them,  committing  them  for  trial.  Lord  Chief  Justice  Coke 
actually  assisted  in  taking  the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Somerset 
into  custody  when  charged  with  the  murder  of  Sir  Thomas 
Overbury,  and  examined  not  less  than  three  hundred  witnesses 
against  them." 

With  all  due  respect  to  Lord  Campbell,  I  cannot  but  consider 
that  he  has  made  a  disingenuous  use  of  these  two  illustrations. 
The  first  alludes  to  a  case  of  quasi  rebellion,  which  required  the 
personal  energy  of  the  highest  magistrate  in  the  kingdom  to 


258  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

suppress ;  and  the  second  was  a  crime  perpetrated  by  parties  so 
closely  related  to  the  crown,  that  it  partook  largely  of  the  charac- 
ter of  a  state  affair.  Both  Lords  Chief  Justices  Holt  and  Coke, 
moreover,  decorously  exercised  their  jurisdiction  in  these  cases 
at  chambers.  I  repeat,  therefore,  that  it  is  at  least  disingenuous 
on  the  part  of  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell,  to  quote  these 
instances  as  fair  offsets  to  the  unseemly  tavern  and  chance  street 
interviews  of  Chief  Justice  Gascoigne  with  Falstaff,  as  given  in 
the  First  Part  of  "  Henry  IV."  Lord  Campbell  has  one  or  two 
other  observations  on  phrases  in  the  text  of  "  Henry  IV.,"  Part 
II.,  evincing  legal  comprehension  on  the  part  of  Shakespeare, 
but,  as  his  lordship  puts  them  very  lightly,  and  does  not  press 
them,  they  hardly  require  any  notice  at  my  hands. 

Lord  Campbell  finds  no  evidence  of  Shakespeare's  legal  acquire- 
ments in  "  Henry  V."  worthy  of  his  notice ;  or  in  "  Henry  VI.," 
Part  I. ;  so  he  passes  on  to  "  Henry  VI.,"  Part  II.  where  he  opens 
his  proofs  of  our  poet's  legal  proficiency,  by  burlesque  speeches 
unworthily  put  into  the  mouth  of  Jack  Cade  and  his  associates. 
His  lordship,  however,  might  have  found  in  the  First  Part  (Act 
II.  Scene  5)  a  similar  proof  of  profound  legal  erudition  as  that 
passed  over  by  him  in  "  Henry  V."  (where  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  demonstrates  the  origin  and  character  of  the  Salique 
law  of  France)  and  might  also  have  found  a  very  lawyer-like 
genealogical  recital  (by  York),  in  Act  II.  Scene  2,  of  the  Second 
Part  of  "  King  Henry  VI."  Now,  the  fact  that  of  these  three 
purely  legal  performances  (showing,  as  they  do,  not  merely  the 
proficiency  of  an  attorney's  clerk,  but  the  learning  of  a 
thoroughly  accomplished  barrister)  are  studiously  overlooked  by 
Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell,  in  his  evidences  of  "  Shakespeare's 
Legal  Acquirements,"  while  relying  for  his  proofs  to  that 
effect  upon  the  poet's  mere  mention  of  such  words  as  "seal/* 
"  indenture,"  "  enfeoffment,"  etc.,  warrant  us  in  the  conclusion 
that  his  lordship  had  discovered  that  these  digests  of  title 
and  genealogical  exploits  proved  too  much  for  the  rest  of  his 
argument.  His  lordship,  however,  overlooking  this  suggestive 
example  (suggestive,  in  short,  that  Shakespeare  ordered  his  law, 
when  he  required  any,  from  other  and  more  competent  hands), 
finds  a  world  of  point  in  the  comic  extravagances  which  our 
poet  has  put  into  the  speeches  of  Jack  Cade  and  his  band. 
"  In  these  speeches,"  says  Lord  Campbell,  "  we  find  a  familiarity 


"  King  Henry  VI."— Part  III.  259 

with  the  law  and  its  proceedings,  which  strongly  indicates  that 
the  author  must  have  had  some  professional  practice  or  education 
as  a  lawyer/-'  The  example  which  his  lordship  gives  to  support 
this  opinion  is  to  be  found  in  the  second  scene  of  Act  IV.  and, 
in  order  to  show  how  small  a  stock  of  logic  will  serve,  at  times, 
even  for  a  Lord  Chief  Justice,  I  here  give  Lord  Campbell's 
quotation  and  remarks  : — 

DICK.  The  first  thing  we  do,  let 's  Mil  all  the  lawyers. 

CADE.  Nay,  that  I  mean  to  do.  Is  not  this  a  lamentable  thing,  that  the 
skin  of  an  innocent  lamb  should  be  made  parchment? — that  parchment, 
being  scribbled  o'er,  should  undo  a  man  ?  Some  say  the  bee  stings ;  but  I 
say  'tis  the  bee's  wax,  for  I  did  but  seal  once  to  a  thing,  and  I  was  never 
mine  own  man  since. 

"  The  Clerk  of  Chatham  is  then  brought  in,  who  could  '  make 
obligations  and  write  court  hand/  and  who,  instead  of  '  makingv 
his  mark  like  an  honest,  plain-dealing  man/  had  been  t  so  well 
brought  up  that  he  could  write  his  name/  Therefore  he  was 
sentenced  to  be  hanged  with  his  pen  and  ink-horn  about  his 
neck. 

"  Surely "  (says  Lord  Campbell)  "  Shakespeare  must  have 
been  employed  to  write  deeds  on  parchment  in  court  hand,  and  to 
apply  the  wax.  to  them  in  the  form  of  seals :  one  does  not  under- 
stand how  he  should,  on  any  other  theory  of  his  bringing  up, 
have  been  acquainted  with  these  details. 

"  Again  "  (says  his  lordship)  "  the  indictment  on  which  Lord 
Say  was  arraigned,  in  Act  IV.  Scene  7,  seems  drawn  by  no 
inexperienced  hand : — 

" '  Thou  hast  most  traitorously  corrupted  the  youth  of  the 
realm  in  erecting  a  grammar-school :  and  whereas,  before,  our 
forefathers  had  no  other  books  but  the  score  and  the  tally,  thou 
hast  caused  printing  to  be  used;  and  contrary  to  the  king,  his 
crown  and  dignity,  thou  hast  built  a  paper-mill.  It  will  be 
proved  to  thy  face  that  thou  hast  men  about  thee  that  usually 
talk  of  a  noun  and  a  verb,  and  such  abominable  words  as  no 
Christian  ear  can  endure  to  hear.  Thou  hast  appointed  justices 
of  peace,  to  call  poor  men  before  them  about  matters  they  were 
not  able  to  answer.  Moreover  thou  hast  put  them  in  prison  ; 
and  because  they  could  not  read,  thou  hast  hanged  them,  when 
indeed  only  for  that  cause  they  have  been  most  worthy  to  live/ 

"  How  acquired  I  know  not,  but  it  is  quite  certain  "  (declares 


260  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Lord  Campbell)  "  that  the  drawer  of  this  indictment  must  have 
had  some  acquaintance  with  '  The  Crown  Circuit  Companion/ 
and  must  have  had  a  full  and  accurate  knowledge  of  that  rather 
obscure  and  intricate  subject—'  Felony  and  Benefit  of  Clergy/ 

"  Cade's  proclamation,  which  follows,  deals  with  still  more 
recondite  heads  of  jurisprudence.  Announcing  his  policy  when 
he  should  mount  the  throne,  he  says,  '  The  proudest  peer  in 
the  realm  shall  not  wear  a  head  on  his  shoulders  unless  he  pay  me 
tribute  :  there  shall  not  a  maid  be  married  but  she  shall  .  .  . 
Men  shall  hold  of  me  in  capite  ;  and  we  charge  and  command 
that  their  wives  be  as  free  as  heart  can  wisJi,  or  tongiie  can  tell' 

"  He  thus  declares  a  great  forthcoming  change  in  the  tenure 
of  land  and  in  the  liability  of  taxation  :  he  is  to  have  a  pole-tax 
like  that  which  had  raised  the  rebellion ;  but,  instead  of  coming 
down  to  the  daughters  of  blacksmiths  who  had  reached  the  age 
of  fifteen,  it  was  to  be  confined  to  the  nobility.  Then  he  is  to 

legislate  on  the  mercketa  mulierum. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

"  He  proceeds  to  announce  his  intention  to  abolish  tenure  in 
free  socage,  and  that  all  men  should  hold  of  him,  in  capite,  con- 
cluding with  a  licentious  jest  that,  although  his  subjects  should 
no  longer  hold  in  free  socage,  f  their  wives  should  be  as  free  as 
heart  can  wish,  or  tongue  can  tell/  Strange  to  say  "  (continues 
his  lordship)  "  this  phrase,  or  one  almost  identically  the  same, 
'  as  free  as  tongue  can  speak,  or  heart  can  think,'  is  feudal,  and 
was  known  to  the  ancient  law  of  England/' 

Now,  in  relation  to  this  latter  instance  as  presented  by  his 
lordship,  the  suggestion  which  irresistibly  presents  itself  is, 
that  Shakespeare,  if  he  really  had  been  bred  to  the  law,  would 
have  presented  the  legal  phrase  above  correctly.  Bacon  certainly 
would  have  done  so ;  unless  we  are  to  believe  it  was  purposely 
perverted  for  a  comic  object. 


The  date  of  the  production  of  this  stirring  drama  is  set  down 
by  Furnival  as  in  1594,  and  its  publication  in  1597.  The 
authorities  used  in  its  construction  were  "The  History  of 
Richard  III./'  by  Sir  Thomas  More,  and  its  continuation  by 


"Richard  II I ."  261 

Holinshed.  The  character  of  Richard  is  the  most  bustling  and 
vigorous  of  any  in  the  Shakespearian  dramas ;  and  so  masterly 
is  the  sketch  of  the  hero,  that,  notwithstanding  his  enormous 
crimes,  he  ingratiates  himself  with  every  audience  by  his  pro- 
digious intellect  and  marvellous  courage.  In  evidence  of  the 
natural  obstacles  which  stood  in  the  way  of  his  violent  acquisi- 
tion of  the  throne,  I  quote  the  following  portrait  of  him  by  Sir 
Thomas  More,  in  the  work  referred  to  : — 

"  Richard,  the  third  son  (of  Richard,  duke  of  York),  was,  in 
wit  and  courage,  equal  with  either  of  them — his  brothers 
Edward  the  Fourth,  and  George,  duke  of  Clarence.  In  body 
and  prowess  he  was  far  under  them  both ;  little  of  stature,  ill- 
featured  of  limbs,  crook-backed,  his  left  shoulder  much  higher 
than  his  right,  hard-favoured  of  visage,  and  such  as  is  in  states 
called  warlie,  in  other  men  otherwise ;  he  was  malicious,  wrath- 
ful, envious,  and  from  afore  his  birth  ever  froward.  It  is  for 
truth  reported,  that  the  duchess,  his  mother,  had  so  much  ado  in 
her  travail.  .  .  .  None  evil  captain  was  he  in  the  way  of  war,  as 
to  which  his  disposition  was  more  metely  than  for  peace. 
Sundry  victories  had  he,  and  sometime  overthrows,  but  never  in 
default  as  for  his  own  person  of  hardiness  or  politic  order.  .  .  . 
He  was  close  and  secret,  a  deep  dissembler,  lowly  of  countenance, 
arrogant  of  heart,  outwardly  companionable  where  he  inwardly 
hated,  not  letting  to  kiss  whom  he  thought  to  kill :  dispiteous 
and  cruel,  not  for  evil  will  alway,  but  often  for  ambition,  and 
either  for  the  surety  or  increase  of  his  estate.  Friend  and  foe  was 
much  what  indifferent ;  where  his  advantage  grew,  he  spared  no 
man's  death,  whose  life  withstood  his  purpose." 

Shakespeare  has  followed  the  chronicle  with  great  minuteness, 
which  shows  how  faithfully  he  can  adhere  to  the  truth  when  so 
disposed.  On  the  night  before  the  battle  of  Bosworth  Field, 
says  the  old  historian  : — 

"  The  fame  went  that  he  had  a  dreadful  and  terrible  dream ; 
for  it  seemed  to  him,  being  asleep,  that  he  did  see  divers  images 
like  terrible  devils,  which  pulled  and  haled  him,  not  suffering 
him  to  take  any  quiet  or  rest.  The  which  strange  vision  not  so 
suddenly  strake  his  heart  with  a  sudden  fear,  but  it  stuffed  his 
head  and  troubled  his  mind  with  many  busy  and  dreadful 
imaginations.  .  .  .  And  less  that  it  might  be  suspected  that  he 
was  abashed  for  fear  of  his  enemies,  and  for  that  cause  looked  so 
18 


262  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

piteously,  he  recited  and  declared  to  his  familiar  friends  in  the 

morning,  his  wonderful  vision  and  fearful  dream When 

the  loss  of  the  battle  was  imminent  and  apparent,  they  brought 
to  him  a  swift  and  a  light  horse,  to  convey  him  away ;  but  dis- 
daining flight,  and  inflamed  with  ire,  and  vexed  with  outrageous 
malice,  he  put  his  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  rode  out  of  the  side  of 
the  range  of  his  battle,  leaving  the  vanguard  fighting,  and,  like 
a  hungry  lion,  ran  with  spear  in  rest  towards  him.  The  earl  of 
Richmond  perceived  well  the  king  coming  furiously  toward  him, 
and  because  the  whole  hope  of  his  wealth  and  purpose  was  to  be 
determined  by  battle,  he  gladly  proffered  to  encounter  with  him, 
body  to  body,  and  man  to  man.  King  Richard  set  on  so 
sharply  at  the  first  brunt,  that  he  overthrew  the  earl's  standard, 
and  slew  Sir  William  Brandon,  his  standard-bearer ;  and  matched 
hand  to  hand  with  Sir  John  Cheinie,  a  man  of  great  force  and 
strength,  which  would  have  resisted  him,  but  the  said  John  was 
by  him  manfully  overthrown.  And  so,  he  making  open  passage 
by  dint  of  sword  as  he  went  forward,  the  earl  of  Richmond 
withstood  his  violence,  and  kept  him  at  the  sword's  point, 
without  advantage,  longer  than  his  companions  either  thought 
or  judged,  which  being  almost  in  despair  of  victory,  were 
suddenly  re-comforted  by  Sir  William  Stanley,  which  came  to 
succours  with  three  thousand  tall  men,  at  which  very  instant 
King  Richard's  men  were  driven  back,  and  fled,  and  he  himself, 
manfully  fighting  in  the  middle  of  his  enemies,  was  slain,  and 
brought  to  his  death  as  he  worthily  had  deserved." 

Dowden,  in  treating  of  the  character  of  this  drama,  says, 
"  The  demoniac  intensity  which  distinguishes  the  play  pro- 
ceeds from  the  character  of  Richard,  as  from  its  source  and 
centre.  .  .  .  Richard  rathers  occupies  the  imagination  by 
audacity  and  force  than  insinuates  himself  through  some  sub- 
tle solvent,  some  magic  and  mystery  of  art.  His  character 
does  not  grow  upon  us ;  from  the  first  it  is  complete.  .  .  .  Cole- 
ridge has  said  of  Richard,  that  pride  of  intellect  is  his  cha- 
racteristic. This  is  true ;  but  his  dominant  characteristic  is  not 
intellectual — it  is  rather  a  demoniac  energy  of  will.  The  same 
cause  which  produces  tempest  and  shipwreck  produces  Richard ; 
he  is  a  fierce  elemental  power  raging  through  the  world."1 

1  Dowden's  "  Shakespeare's  Mind  and  Art,"  p.  182. 


"Richard  III r  263 

As  it  is  no  part  of  my  task  to  proceed  any  farther  upon  this 
line  of  observation,  I  will  therefore  direct  myself,  at  once,  to 
such  portions  of  the  text  as  illustrate  those  tendencies  of  the 
poet's  mind  which  we  have  made  the  subject  of  our  particular 
analysis. 

At  the  opening  of  the  second  act,  while  Edward  is  still  king, 
though  grievously  sick,  Lord  Stanley  comes  hastily  before  him, 
and  implores  pardon  for  one  of  his  servants,  who  had  slain  "  a 
riotous  nobleman."  Edward,  however,  is  suffering  under  re- 
morse for  having  ordered  Clarence's  death,  and  rebukes  the 
impetuous  suitor  by  reminding  him  that  no  one  attempted  to 
intercept  his  purpose  when  he  had  hastily  sentenced  his  poor 
brother : — 

Have  I  a  tongue  to  doom  my  brother's  death  ? 

And  shall  that  tongue  give  pardon  to  a  slave  ? 

*  Not  a  man  of  you 

Had  so  much  grace  to  put  it  in  my  mind. 

But,  when  your  carters,  or  your  waiting  vassals, 

Have  done  a  drunken  slaughter  and  defaced 

The  precious  image  of  our  dear  Redeemer. 

You  straight  are  on  your  knees  for  pardon,  pardon ! 

In  Act  III.  Scene  2  we  find  the  following  Catholic  symptoms 
in  our  poet : — 

BUCK.          What,  talking  with  a  priest,  lord  chamberlain  P 
Your  friends  at  Pomfret,  they  do  need  the  priest; 
Your  honour  hath  no  shriving  work  in  hand. 
HASTINGS.  Good  faith,  and  when  I  met  this  holy  man, 
The  men  you  talk  of  came  into  my  mind. 

BUCK.          Now,  ly  the  holy  Mother  of  our  Lord!— 
"#  *  * 

Enter,  from  the  castle,  CATESBY. 
Now,  Catesby !  what  says  your  lord  to  my  request  ? 
GATE.  He  doth  entreat  your  grace,  my  noble  lord, 

To  visit  him  to-morrow,  or  next  day : 
He  is  within,  with  two  right  reverend  fathers, 
Divinely  bent  to  meditation  : 
And  in  no  worldly  suit  would  he  be  moved, 
To  draw  him  from  his  holy  exercise. 

Act  III.  Scene  7. 

The  following  thus  describes  the  ruthless  murder  of  the  two 
young  princes  in  the  Tower  : — 
TYEEEL.      Dighton  and  Forrest,  whom  I  did  suborn 


264  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

To  do  this  piece  of  ruthless  butchery, 

Albeit  they  were  flesh'd  villains,  bloody  dogs, 

Melting  with  tenderness  and  mild  compassion, 

Wept  like  two  children,  in  their  death's  sad  story. 

0  thus,  quoth  Dighton,  lay  the  gentle  babes, — 

Thus,  thus,  quoth  Forrest,  girdling  one  another 

Within  their  alabaster  innocent  arms  : 

Their  lips  were  four  red  roses  on  a  stalk, 

Which,  in  their  summer  beauty,  kiss'd  each  other. 

A  book  of  prayers  on  their  pillow  lay : 

Which  once,  quoth  Forrest,  almost  changed  my  mind. 

This  assassination  being  brought  to  the  knowledge  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  the  mother  of  these  murdered  innocents,  she  exclaims, — 

Ah,  my  poor  princes !  ah,  my  tender  babes ! 
My  unblown  flowers,  new-appearing  sweets ! 
If  yet  your  gentle  souls  fly  in  the  airt 
And  be  not  fix' d  in  doom  perpetual, 
Hover  about  me  with  your  airy  wings, 
And  hear  your  mother  s  lamentation  ! 
Q.  MAE.       Hover  about  her  ;  say,  that  right  for  right 

Hath  dimm'd  your  infant  morn  to  aged  night. 

This  instance,  which  was  given  in  an  earlier  chapter,  shows 
Shakespeare's  recognition  of  the  doctrine  of  purgatory. 

Again,  this  Catholic  doctrine  is  expressed  by  Buckingham 
(when  on  the  way  to  execution)  in  remorseful  invocation  to  the 
souls  of  those  whom  he  had  helped  Richard  murder  : — 

Hastings  and  Edward's  children,  Rivers,  Grey, 
Holy  king  Henry,  and  thy  fair  son  Edward, 
Vaughan,  and  all  that  have  miscarried 
By  underhand  corrupted  foul  injustice: 
If  that  your  moody  discontented  souls 
Do  through  the  clouds  behold  this  present  hour, 
Even  for  revenge  moclc  my  destruction  ! 
*  *  * 

Come,  lead  me,  officers,  to  the  block  of  shame ; 
Wrong  hath  but  wrong,  and  blame  the  due  of  blame. 

Act  IV.  Scene  4. 

K.  RlCH.     A  flourish,  trumpets  ! — strike  alarum,  drums ! 
Let  not  the  heavens  hear  these  tell-tale  women 
Kail  on  the  Lord's  anointed  /    Strike,  I  say  1 
*  *  * 

Act  V.  Scene  2. 

Enter  RICHMOND  and  Forces. 
RICH.  Then  in  God's  name  march : 


"  Richard  III."  265 

True  hope  is  swift,  and  flies  with  swallow's  wings, 
Kings  it  makes  gods,  and  meaner  creatures  Mngs  ! 

Tent  Scene. — Richard's  Dream. 
The  Ghost  ofKiNG  HENEY  THE  SIXTH  rises. 
GHOST.         When  I  was  mortal,  my  anointed  body 

By  thee  was  punched  full  of  deadly  holes. 

Scene  III.—Bosworth  Field. 
K.  EICH.      Why,  our  battalia  trebles  that  account : 

Besides,  the  Icing's  name  is  a  tower  of  strength, 
Which  they  upon  the  adverse  faction  want. 

*  *  * 

These  famish'd  beggars,  weary  of  their  lives ; 

Who,  but  for  dreaming  on  this  fond  exploit, 

For  want  of  means,  poor  rats,  had  hang'd  themselves. 

*  *  * 

Remember  whom  you  are  to  cope  withal ; 

A  sort  of  vagabonds,  rascals  and  runaways, 

A  scum  of  Bretagnes,  and  base  lackey  peasants. 

I  return  now  to  the  first  act,  Scene  %,  for  a  final  illustration 
from  this  play.  The  Lady  Anne,  attended  by  mourners  and  a 
guard,  is  accompanying  the  body  of  King  Henry  VI.  to  Chertsey 
monastery,  for  interment : — 

Enter  GLOSTEE. 

GLO.  Stay  you,  that  bear  the  corse,  and  set  it  down. 

ANNE.          What  black  magician  conjures  up  this  fiend, 
To  stop  devoted  charitable  deeds  ? 

GLO.  Villains,  set  down  the  corse ;  or,  by  Saint  Paul, 

I'll  make  a  corse  of  him  that  disobeys. 

1  GENT.       My  lord,  stand  back,  and  let  the  coffin  pass. 

\Se  lowers  his  spear  at  GLOSTEE'S  breast. 

GLO.  Unmanner'd  dog !  stand  thou  when  I  command : 

Advance  thy  halberd  higher  than  my  breast, 
Or,  by  Saint  Paul,  I'll  strike  thee  to  my  foot, 
And  spurn  upon  thee,  beggar,  for  thy  boldness. 

Such  is  the  worship  paid  to  wealth  in  England,  down  even  to 
the  present  day,  that  the  most  current  expression  of  contempt  is 
to  brand  a  man  with  the  epithet  of  beggar  !  as  used  in  the  sense 
of  poverty, — "  Get  out,  you  beggar ! " 

The  stock-in-trade  of  this  play  consists  of  murders,  conspiracies 
and  perjuries,  and  amid  this  sickening  sea  of  crime  the  female 
characters  figure  to  such  singular  disadvantage,  as  to  give 


266  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

another  to  the  many  proofs  that  Shakespeare  did  not  have  a 
very  high  estimate  of  women. 

The  play  which  follows  "  Richard  III."  and  closes  the  Shake- 
spearian dramatic  histories,  is  that  of  "  Henry  VIIL,"  which 
leaves  the  reign  of  Richmond,  or  Henry  VII.,  unrepresented  in  the 
series.  The  Baconians  seek  to  make  a  great  point  of  this  hiatus, 
by  producing  the  fact  that  Bacon  wrote  a  special  prose  history  of 
the  reign  of  Henry  VII.,  over  his  own  signature,  and  that, 
having  thus  met  all  the  historical  necessities  of  the  subject  in 
prose,  his  tired  muse  did  not  feel  called  upon  to  repeat  the  task, 
under  the  disadvantages  of  dramatic  poetry.  It  strikes  me, 
however,  that  it  is  much  more  reasonable  to  attribute  Shake- 
speare's neglect  of  Henry  VII.  for  the  purposes  of  a  play  to  the 
utter  absence  of  any  dramatic  incident  in  a  reign  which  was  de- 
voted only  to  mere  social  progress  and  "  the  establishment  of 
law  and  order." 


"King  Henry  VIII"  267 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


THE  greatest  of  all  the  controversies  which  have  raged  among 
the  commentators,  both  German  and  English,  upon  the  life, 
genius,  and  writings  of  William  Shakespeare,  is  that  concerning 
the  date  of  our  poet's  production  of  the  play  of  "  Henry  VIII." 
And  the  object  of  the  dispute  is  by  no  means  unworthy  of  the 
consequence  which  has  been  given  to  it,  for  its  date  defines,  to  a 
great  extent,  the  motives  which  induced  Shakespeare  to  prostitute 
his  pen  to  the  laudation  of  a  monster,  whose  very  name  it  is  the 
common  duty  of  mankind  to  execrate.  Moreover,  the  play,  as 
it  stands,  bears  sharply  upon  the  question  of  Shakespeare's 
religious  faith,  and,  particularly  in  that  expression  in  Cranmer's 
christening  speech  (upon  which  Knight  so  much  relies),  when 
the  Archbishop  predicts  that  during  the  reign  of  Elizabeth — 
which  was  a  Protestant  reign — 

God  shall  be  truly  known. 

Be  it  observed  at  this  point,  however,  that  the  whole  of  this 
speech  of  Cranmer's  is  generally  regarded  as  spurious  by  the 
English  commentators,  and  is  attributed  by  most  of  them  to 
Ben  Jon  son,  who  is  supposed  to  have  written  it  in,  subsequent 
to  its  production,  as  a  compliment  to  King  James,  who  ascended 
the  throne  at  the  death  of  Elizabeth,  in  March,  1603. 1  Among 

1  Doctor  Reichensperger,  clerical  member  of  the  German  Parliament,  has 
recently  issued  a  work,  in  which  he  says  that  "  Cranmer's  prediction  of  the 
glories  of  Elizabeth's  reign,  at  the  end  of  '  King  Henry  VIII.'  is  an  inter- 
polation of  the  low  court  parasite,  Ben  Jonson." 

The  April  number  of  the  Catholic  Progress,  published  in  London,  con- 
tains a  paper  by  "  J.  B.  M.,"  which  says,  in  referring  to  "  Henry  VIII.," 
"  Clap-trap  passages  about  the  '  virgin  queen/  for  instance,  may  possibly  not 
be  Shakespeare's  own  writing.  If  they  are,  they  are  of  course  drawbacks. 


268  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

those  who  deny  the  authenticity  of  Cranmer's  speech,  and  who 
believe  that  the  play  was  written  by  Shakespeare  as  early  as 
1602,  are  Doctor  Johnson,  Theobald,  Steevens,  Malone,  Collier, 
and  Halliwell,  with  only  Knight  and  Hunter,  among  the 
English  critics,  to  the  contrary.  "  All  of  the  German  com- 
mentators, however,"  says  Elze,  "  with  the  exception  of  Schlegel 
and  Kreyssig,  are  in  favour  of  the  year  1612."  Speddon  says, 
that  Shakespeare  planned  "  Henry  VIII.,"  "  but  wrote  less  than 
half  of  it  (1116  lines),  Fletcher  writing  the  rest  (1761  lines)/' 2 

The  argument  for  the  production  of  "  Henry  VIII."  in  1612, 
has  its  main  support  in  two  private  letters  (written,  one  on 
June  30,  and  the  other  on  July  6,  1613,  by  a  Mr.  Thomas 
Lorkin  and  Sir  Henry  Wotton  respectively),  describing  the 
burning  of  the  Globe  Theatre,  of  London,  on  the  29th  June 
previous.  During  the  performance  of  "  King  Henry  VIII.," 
says  Lorkin,  the  house  was  set  on  fire  by  the  discharge  of 
chambers  (small  cannon)  on  the  entrance  of  the  king  to  Wolsey's 
palace — the  wadding  of  the  said  chambers  having  lodged  in  the 
thatch  of  the  roof.  Sir  Henry  Wotton's  letter,  in  alluding  to 
the  same  incident,  speaks  of  the  piece  which  was  being  per- 
formed at  the  time  of  the  fire  as  a  new  play,  called  "  All  is  True, 
representing  some  principal  pieces  of  the  reign  of  Henry  the 
Eighth."  Now,  it  is  very  easy  to  conceive  that  Sir  Henry 
Wotton  might  have  thought  the  piece  a  new  one  without  being 
correct ;  or  that  he  may  never  before  have  been  at  a  theatre, 
and  consequently  knew  but  little  of  such  matters ;  but  it  is  not 
easy  to  conceive  that  Shakespeare  should  have  so  closely  inter- 
woven his  paBan  to  the  infant  Elizabeth  with  the  panegyric  on 
King  James,  when  it  was  generally  known  (and  by  no  one 
better  than  by  Shakespeare)  that  James  had  by  no  means  a 
good  opinion  of  his  predecessor.3 

This,  to  my  mind,  indicates  the  Cranmer  christening  speech 

No  real  Catholic  would  flatter  a  monster  whose  savage  cruelties  were  endea- 
vouring to  eradicate  from  her  subjects  the  Catholic  faith."  To  this,  I  may 
add,  that  Henry  burnt  Protestants  as  well  as  Catholics  when  he  took  the 
notion. — G.  W. 

2  Gervinius,  p.  xx  of  "  Introduction." 

3  It  is  worthy  of  notice  that  among  the  many  tributes  to  the  virtues  of 
Queen  Elizabeth  which  immediately  followed  her  death,  none   came  from 
Shakespeare.      This   neglect    appeared   so   singular,    that   Chettle   publicly 
rebuked  him  for  it  in  the  lines, — 


"King  Henry  VIII"  269 

to  be  an  interpolation  on  the  text  of  Shakespeare,  and  also 
favours  the  idea  that  Shakespeare  wrote  the  play  in  1602,  to 
please  the  Queen,  and  to  soften  the  character  of  Henry  VIII., 
because  he  was  her  father. 

With  these  preliminary  observations  I  will  pass  to  the  illus- 
trations of  the  play.  The  first  that  arrests  our  attention  is  the 
one  in  which  Buckingham  (after  having  been  condemned  in  a 
most  unfair  trial  by  notoriously  prejudiced  judges  and  by 
testimony  so  obviously  false  that  it  attracted  the  attention  of 
Queen  Katharine  and  elicited  her  womanly  protest)  is  made  by 
Shakespeare  to  acquit  and  bless  the  royal  brute  who  would 
neither  hearken  to  justice  nor  to  her  : — 

Act  II.  Scene  1. 

For  further  life  in  this  world  I  ne'er  hope, 
Nor  will  I  sue,  although  the  Icing  have  mercies 
More  than  I  dare  make  faults. 

*  *  * 

Commend  me  to  his  grace ; 
And  if  he  speak  of  Buckingham,  pray  tell  him, 
You  met  him  half  in  heaven ;  my  vows  and  prayers 
Yet  are  the  Icing's  ;  and  till  my  soul  for 'sake, 
Shall  cry  for  blessings  on  him  ;  may  he  live 
Longer  than  I  have  time  to  tell  his  years  I 
Ever  beloved  and  loving,  may  his  rule  be  I 
And,  when  old  Time  shall  lead  him  to  his  end, 
GOODNESS  AND  HE  FILL  UP  ONE  MONUMENT  ! 

*  *  * 

I  had  my  trial. 

And,  must  needs  say,  a  noble  one  ;  4  which  makes  me 
A  little  happier  than  my  wretched  father : 
Yet  thus  far  we  are  one  in  fortunes. — Both 

Nor  doth  the  silver-tongued  Melicert 

Drop  from  his  honied  muse  one  sable  tear, 

To  mourn  her  death  that  graced  his  desert, 

And  to  his  laies  open'd  her  royal  eare. 

Shepherd,  remember  our  Elizabeth, 

And  sing  her  rape  done  by  that  Tarquin,  Death. 

"  Mourning  Garment,"  p.  160.  Z.  Holmes,  p.  41. 

4  The  character  of  the  witnesses  in  this  "  noble  trial "  was  thus  prefigured 
by  the  conscientious  Queen  Katharine  to  the  conscienceless  and  bloody  boar, 
King  Henry : — 

Act  I.  Scene  2. 

Q.  KATH.  I  am  sorry  that  the  Duke  of  Buckingham 
Is  run  in  your  displeasure. 


2  70  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Fell  by  our  servants,  by  those  men  we  loved  most ; 
A  most  unnatural  and  faithless  service  ! 

At  this  point  one  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's  retainers,  a 
surveyor,  testifies  against  him,  but  with  such  evident  prejudice 
and  malice  that  the  Queen  again  interposes  : — 

Enter  a  Surveyor. 
Q.  KATH.  If  I  know  you  well, 

You  were  the  Duke's  surveyor,  and  lost  your  office 

On  the  complaint  o'  the  tenants.     Take  good  heed 

You  charge  not  in  your  spleen,  a  noble  person, 

And  spoil  your  nobler  soul !     I  say,  take  heed  ! 

Act  II.  Scene  2. 

SUFFOLK.  How  is  the  King  employ 'd  ? 
CHAM.  I  left  him  private, 

Full  of  sad  thoughts  and  troubles. 

NOBFOLK.  What's  the  cause  ? 

CHAM.        It  seems  the  marriage  with  his  brother's  wife 

Has  crept  not  near  his  conscience. 
SUFFOLK.  No,  his  conscience 

Has  crept  too  near  another  lady. 
NOEFOLK.  Tis  so : 

This  is  the  cardinal's  doing,  the  king-cardinal : 

That  blind  priest,  like  the  eldest  son  of  fortune, 

Turns  what  he  lists.     The  king  will  know  him  one  day. 
NOBFOLK  opens  a  folding-door.      The  KING  is  discovered  sitting,  and 

reading  pensively. 

SUFFOLK.  How  sad  he  looks  !  sure  he  is  much  afflicted. 
K.  HEN.    Who  is  there?  ha? 

NOBFOLK.  'Pray  God,  he  be  not  angry. 

K.  HEN.    Who's  there,  I  say  ?    How  dare  you  thrust  yourselves 

Into  my  private  meditations  ? 

Who  am  I  ?  ha ! 
NoBFOLK.  A  gracious  Jcing,  that  pardons  all  offences 

Malice  ne'er  meant :  our  breach  of  duty,  this  way 

Is  business  of  estate  ;  in  which,  we  come 

To  know  your  royal  pleasure. 
K.  HEN.  You  are  too  bold, 

Go  to ;  I'll  make  ye  know  your  times  of  business  : 

Is  this  an  hour  for  temporal  affairs  ?  ha  ? — 

K.  HEN.  It  grieves  many. 

•  r  '•'.'"• 

WOLSET.  To  your  high  person 

His  will  is  most  malignant. 
Q.  KATH.  My  learned  Lord  Cardinal, 

Deliver  all  with  charity. 


"  King  Henry  VIII."  271 


Act  II.  Scene  2. 

CABDINAL  CAMPEIUS  (to  KING  HENBY). 
Your  grace  must  needs  deserve  all  strangers9  loves, 
You  are  so  noble. 

Act  II.  Scene  3. — An  Antechamber  in  the  Queens  Apartments. 
Present — ANNE  BULLEN,  Lady  in  Waiting,  and  an  old  Lady  of  the  Court. 

Enter  LORD  CHAMBERLAIN. 

LOBD  C.  (observing  ANNE  BULLEN,  the  mother  of  the  future  infant 
ELIZABETH,  and  speaking  aside). 

I  have  perused  her  well ; 
Beauty  and  honour  in  her  are  so  mingled, 
That  they  have  caught  the  king ;  and  who  knows  yet 
But  from  this  lady  may  proceed  a  gem 
To  lighten  all  this  isle ! 

Act  II.  Scene  4.— The  Trial  of  Queen  Katharine. 
Q.  KATH.  (to  WOLSEY).  Again 

I  do  refuse  you  for  my  judge ;  and  here, 
Before  you  all,  appeal  unto  the  pope, 
To  bring  my  whole  cause  'fore  his  holiness, 
And  to  be  judged  by  him. 

[She  curtsies  to  the  KING,  and  offers  to  depart. 
CAM.  The  queen  is  obstinate, 

Stubborn  to  justice,  apt  to  accuse  it,  and 
Disdainful  to  be  try'd  by  it ;  'tis  not  well. 
She's  going  away. 
K.  HEN.    Call  her  again. 

CEIEE.      Katharine,  Queen  of  England,  come  into  the  court. 
GEIF.         Madame,  you  are  call'd  back. 
Q.  KATH.  What  need  you  note  it  ?  pray  you,  keep  your  way : 
When  you  are  call'd,  return. — Now  the  Lord  help ! 
They  vex  me  past  my  patience ! — pray  you,  pass  on : 
I  will  not  tarry  :  no,  nor  ever  more, 
Upon  this  business,  my  appearance  make 
In  any  of  their  courts. 

\Exeunt  QUEEN,  GBIFFITH,  and  Attendants. 
K.  HEN.  Go  thy  ways,  Kate : 

The  man  if  the  world  who  shall  report  he  has 
A  better  wife,  let  him  in  naught  be  trusted, 
For  speaking  false  in  that  thou  art,  alone 
(If  thy  rare  qualities,  sweet  gentleness, 
Thy  meekness  saint-like,  wife-like  government, 
Obeying  in  commanding — and  thy  parts 
Sovereign  and  pious  else,  could  speak  thee  out), 
The  queen  of  earthly  queens :  she  is  noble  born : 
And  like  her  true  nobility,  she  has 
Carried  herself  toward  me. 


272  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Act  III.  Scene  1  presents  two  remarkable  expressions  from 
the  devoutly  Catholic  Queen  Katharine,  which  dispose,  entirely, 
by  a  parity  of  reasoning,  of  all  of  Knight's  Protestant  pre- 
sumptions on  the  lines  in  "  King  John  :" — 

The  king  has  been  poisoned  by  a  monk, 
A  most  resolved  villain. 

The  Queen  and  her  women  are  at  needlework,  when  a  mes- 
senger enters  and  informs  her  that  Cardinals  Wolsey  and 
Campeius  desire  an  audience  : —  ^ 

Q.  KATH.  Pray  their  graces 

To  come  near.     What  can  be  their  business 
With  me,  a  poor,  weak  woman,  fallen  from  favour  ? 
I  do  not  like  their  coming.     Now,  I  think  on  it, 
They  should  be  good  men :  their  affairs  as  righteous  : 
But  all  hoods  maJce  not  monies. 

And,  again,  in  the  interview  which  follows,  she  says  to 
Wolsey : — 

Q.  KATH.  Ye  turn  me  into  nothing  :   Woe  upon  ye, 

And  all  such  false  professors  !    Would  ye  have  me 

(If  you  have  any  justice,  any  pity  ; 

If  ye  be"  anything  but  churchmen  s  habits] 

Put  my  sick  cause  into  his  hands  that  hate  me  ? 

In  the  next  scene  Wolsey  thus  reflects  upon  the  threatening 
complications  which  the  advent  of  the  beautiful  Anne  Bullen 
makes  for  him,  in  his  profligate  master's  mind : — 

WOLSEY.  Anne  Bullen  !     No  ;  I'll  no  Anne  Bullens  for  him. 
There  is  more  in  it  than  fair  visage.     Bullen  ! 
No,  we'll  no  Bullens. 

*  *  * 

The  late  queen's  gentlewoman :  a  knight's  daughter, 
To  be  her  mistress'  mistress  !  the  queen's  queen  ! 
This  candle  burns  not  clear  ;  'tis  I  must  snuff  it ; 
Then,  out  it  goes.     What  though  I  know  her  virtuous, 
And  well  deserving  ?  yet  I  know  her  for 
A  spleeny  Lutheran  ;  and  not  wholesome  to 
Our  cause,  that  she  should  lie  i'  the  bosom  of 
Our  hard-ruled  king.     Again,  there  is  sprung  up 
An  heretic,  an  arch  one,  Cranmer  ;  one 
Hath  crawl'd  into  the  favour  of  the  king, 
And  is  his  oracle. 

The  close  of  this  scene  describes  Wolsey 's  fall  : — 


"King  Henry  VIII."  273 

WOLSEY.  I  know  myself  now :  and  I  feel  within  mo 

A  peace  above  all  earthly  dignities, 

A  still  and  quiet  conscience.     The  king  has  cured  me, 

I  humbly  thank  his  grace  ;  and  from  these  shoulders, 

These  ruin'd  pillars,  out  of  pity,  taken 

A  load  would  sink  a  navy,  too  much  honour  ; 

O,  'tis  a  burden,  Cromwell,  'tis  a  burden, 

Too  heavy  for  a  man  that  hopes  for  heaven. 
CEOM.        I  am  glad,  your  grace  has  made  that  right  use  of  it. 
WOL.          I  hope,  I  have  :  I  am  able  now,  methinks 

(Out  of  a  fortitude  of  soul  I  feel), 

To  endure  more  miseries,  and  greater  far, 

Than  my  weak-hearted  enemies  dare  offer. 

What  news  abroad  ? 
CEOM.  The  heaviest  and  the  worst 

Is  your  displeasure  with  the  king. 
WOL.  God  bless  him  ! 

•  •.*;• 

Go,  get  thee  from  me,  Cromwell ; 
I  am  a  poor  fallen  man,  unworthy  now 
To  be  thy  lord  and  master  :  SeeJc  the  king  ; 
That  sun,  I  pray,  may  never  set !     I  have  told  him 
What,  and  how  true  thou  art :  he  will  advance  thee  ; 
Some  little  memory  of  me  will  stir  him, 
(_T  know  his  noble  nature?) 

Act  IV.  Scene  2. 

The  Scene  of  QUEEN  KATHARINE'S  death. 
Q.  KATH.  In  which  I  have  commended  to  his  goodness 

The  model  of  our  chaste  loves,  his  young  daughter  : 5— 

The  dews  of  heaven  fall  thick  in  blessings  on  her  ! 

Beseeching  him  to  give  her  virtuous  breeding; 

She  is  young,  and  of  a  noble  modest  nature, 

I  hope,  she  will  deserve  well ;  and  a  little 

To  love  her  for  her  mother's  sake,  that  loved  him, 

Heaven  knows  how  dearly. 

*  *  * 
When  I  am  dead,  good  wench, 

Let  me  be  used  with  honour ;  strew  me  over 
With  maiden  flowers,  that  all  the  world  may  know 
I  was  a  chaste  wife  to  my  grave ;  embalm  me, 
Then  lay  me  forth :  although  unqueen'd,  yet  like 
A  queen,  and  daughter  of  a  king,  inter  me  ! 

Act  V.  Scene  4. 

CBANMEE'S  christening  speech  for  the  infant  ELIZABETH. 
GAET.  Heaven, 

6   Mary  I.,  sometimes  called  "  Bloody  Mary." 


274  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

From  thy  endless  goodness,  send  prosperous  life, 

Long,  and  ever  happy,  to  the  high  and  mighty 

Princess  of  England,  Elizabeth  ! 

Flourish.     Enter  King  and  train. 
CEAN.     And  to  your  royal  grace,  and  the  good  queen,  [Kneeling. 

My  noble  partners,  and  myself,  thus  pray  :— 

All  comfort,  joy,  in  this  most  gracious  lady, 

Heaven  ever  laid  up  to  make  parents  happy, 

May  hourly  fall  upon  ye  ! 
K.  HEN.  Thank  you,  good  lord  archbishop. 

What  is  her  name  ? 

CEAN.  Elizabeth. 

K.  HEN.  Stand  up,  lord.     \_Cranmer  rises. 

With  this  kiss  take  my  blessing  :  God  protect  thee  ! 

Into  whose  hand  I  give  thy  life.  [Kissing  the  child. 

CEAN.  Amen ! 

K.HEN.  My  noble  gossips,  ye  have  been  too  prodigal. 

I  thank  ye  heartily  :  so  shall  this  lady, 

When  she  has  so  much  English. 
CEAN.  Let  me  speak,  sir, 

For  Heaven  now  bids  me ;  and  the  words  I  utter 

Let  none  think  flattery,  for  they'll  find  them  truth. 

This  royal  infant, — Heaven  still  move  about  her  ! — 

Though  in  her  cradle,  yet  now  promises 

Upon  this  land  a  thousand  thousand  blessings, 

Which  time  shall  bring  to  ripeness.     She  shall  be 

(But  few  now  living  can  behold  that  goodness) 

A  pattern  to  all  princes  living  with  her, 

And  all  that  shall  succeed  :  Sheba  was  never 

More  covetous  of  wisdom,  and  fair  virtue, 

Than  this  pure  soul  shall  be :  all  princely  graces, 

That  mould  up  such  a  mighty  piece  as  this  is, 

With  all  the  virtues  that  attend  the  good, 

Shall  still  be  doubled  on  her :  truth  shall  nurse  her ; 

Holy  and  heavenly  thoughts  still  counsel  her : 

She  shall  be  loved  and  fear'd :  her  own  shall  bless  her : 

Her  foes  shake  like  a  field  of  beaten  corn, 

And  hang  their  heads  with  sorrow :  good  grows  with  her. 

In  her  days  every  man  shall  eat  in  safety 

Under  his  own  vine  what  he  plants,  and  sing 

The  merry  songs  of  peace  to  all  his  neighbours. 

God  shall  be  truly  known  ;  and  those  about  her 

From  her  shall  read  the  perfect  ways  of  honour, 

And  by  those  claim  their  greatness,  not  by  blood. 

Nor  shall  this  peace  sleep  with  her :  but  as  when 

The  bird  of  wonder  dies,  the  maiden  phcenix, 

Her  ashes  new  create  another  heir, 


"King  Henry  VIII r."  2;5 

As  great  in  admiration  as  herself; 
So  shall  she  leave  her  blessedness  to  one  [King  James] 
(When  Heaven  shall  call  her  from  this  cloud  of  darkness) 
Who,  from  the  sacred  ashes  of  her  honour, 
Shall,  star-like,  rise,  as  great  in  fame  as  she  was, 
And  so  stand  fix'd.     Peace,  plenty,  love,  truth,  terror, 
That  were  the  servants  to  this  chosen  infant, 
Shall  then  he  his,  and  like  a  vine  grow  to  him  : 
Wherever  the  bright  sun  of  Heaven  shall  shine, 
His  honour  and  the  greatness  of  his  name 
Shall  be,  and  make  new  nations  :  he  shall  flourish, 
And,  like  a  mountain  cedar,  reach  his  branches 
To  all  the  plains  about  him.     Our  children's  children 
Shall  see  this,  and  bless  Heaven. 

K.  HEN.  Thou  speakest  wonders. 

CEAN.        She  shall  be,  to  the  happiness  of  England, 
An  aged  princess :  many  days  shall  see  her, 
And  yet  no  day  without  a  deed  to  crown  it. 
Would  I  had  known  no  more !  but  she  must  die : 
She  must ;  the  saints  must  have  her  :  yet  a  virgin, 
A  most  unspotted  lily  shall  she  pass 
To  the  ground,  and  all  the  world  shall  mourn  her. 
K.  HEN.  0,  lord  archbishop ! 

Thou  hast  made  me  now  a  man  :  never,  before 

This  happy  child,  did  I  get  anything. 

This  oracle  of  comfort  has  so  pleased  me, 

That  when  I  am  in  heaven  I  shall  desire 

To  see  what  this  child  does,  and  praise  my  Maker. 

I  thank  ye  all.     To  you,  my  good  lord  mayor, 

And  you,  good  brethren,  I  am  much  beholding  : 

I  have  received  much  honour  by  your  presence, 

And  ye  shall  find  me  thankful.     Lead  the  way,  lords  : 

Ye  must  all  see  the  queen,  and  she  must  thank  ye ; 

She  will  be  sick  else.     This  day,  no  man  think 

He  has  business  at  his  house,  for  all  shall  stay : 

This  little  one  shall  make  it  holiday.  [Exeunt. 

It  is  painful  to  witness  such  a  perversity  of  genius,  to  the 
injury  of  truth  and  morals,  as  is  here  exhibited  against  Shake- 
speare, in  the  almost  lovable  portraiture  which  he  has  attempted 
to  foist  upon  his  countrymen  as  "  Bluff  King  Hal."  Neither  the 
history  of  England,  nor  that  of  any  other  country,  furnishes  for 
the  loathing  of  mankind  a  more  cruel  and  unbounded  tyrant 
than  this  same  Henry  VIII. — this  very  proper  father  of  Elizabeth, 
who,  in  many  of  its  worst  points,  emulated  her  sire's  career. 
The  leading  characteristics  of  this  monster  in  human  form  are  a 


276  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

constant  bloodthirstiness  and  unbridled  sensuality.  The  life  of 
no  man  who  offended  him,  or  thwarted  his  smallest  purposes, 
stood  for  a  moment  in  his  way,  and  the  chastity  of  every  woman 
was  at  the  mercy  of  his  mere  caprice.  He  indulged  his  rage 
for  murder  by  indiscriminate  burnings  of  both  Catholics  and 
Protestants ;  while  his  sensuality  is  conspicuously  shown  by  his 
possession  of  six  wives,  two  of  whom  he  disposed  of  on  the  block. 
Nevertheless,  he  affected  conscientiousness  as  to  the  validity  of 
the  marriage  he  had  contracted  with  Katharine  of  Arragon, 
because  she  had  been  his  brother's  widow !  But  he  betrayed 
the  false  motive  which  pushed  forward  that  divorce  by  marry- 
ing Anne  Boleyn,  with  whose  sister,  Mary  Boleyn,  he  had 
long  lived  in  adultery.  Indeed,  the  only  reason  why  he  gave 
Queen  Katharine  even  the  show  of  a  trial,  was  because  she  was 
the  daughter  of  an  emperor,  and  he  wished  to  avoid  a  war  with 
Spain.  In  the  sense  of  congruity,  it  is  surely  eminently  proper 
that  this  monster,  for  whom  Shakespeare  fondly  bespeaks  a 
monument  where  he  might  "  lie  embalmed  with  goodness  for  all 
time,"  should  have  reintroduced  the  obsolete  method  of  punishing 
religious  offenders  by  boiling  them  in  oil.  In  one  batch  this 
bluff  King  Hal  sent  fourteen  Anabaptists  to  be  burnt  in 
Smithfield;  he  afterwards  hanged  six  monks  at  Tyburn,  and 
executed  his  more  distinguished  victims,  like  the  venerable  Bishop 
Fisher  and  Sir  Thomas  More,  by  the  axe  on  Tower  Hill. 

Elizabeth  imitated  the  bloodthirstiness  of  Henry,  and  showed 
it  in  the  beheading  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  at  the  instance  of 
Sir  Francis  Bacon;  she  also  closely  followed  Henry's  conjugal 
policy  by  condemning  her  discarded  favourite,  Essex,  to  exe- 
cution. She  was  too  old,  probably  (though  of  that  we  are  not 
certain),  to  care  to  supply  his  place  on  the  following  day — 
according  to  the  example  of  her  illustrious  father  in  his  mar- 
riage with  Jane  Seymour,  which  took  place  the  very  morning 
after  the  beautiful  Anne  Boleyn  had  been  beheaded  by  his  orders. 

It  is  noticeable  in  this  play,  that  Shakespeare  speaks  tenderly, 
and  with  prophetic  kindness,  of  the  infant  princess,  who  after- 
wards became  "  Bloody  Mary  ;"  and  also  noticeable  that  Queen 
Katharine,  whose  leading  characteristic  is  Catholic  bigotry,  re- 
ceives more  reverential  homage  from  his  pen  than  any  other 
female  in  his  works.  Perhaps  it  was  Henry's  own  unswerving 
devotion  to  the  Catholic  faith,  in  which  he  devoutly  died  (despite 


"  King  Henry  VIII."  277 

his  battle  with  the  Pope  and  plunder  of  the  monasteries),  which 
secured  for  him  the  unfaltering  devotion  of  our  poet.  Indeed,  it 
is  not  unlikely  that  the  Bard  of  Avon,  whose  predilections  for 
royalty  we  have  so  often  noticed,  might  have  derived  much  of 
his  admiration  for  the  character  of  Henry  VIII.  as  a  ruler,  from 
knowing  that  he  subverted  all  the  guarantees  of  the  constitu- 
tion, practically  abolished  the  parliaments  by  suspending  them  for 
seven  or  eight  years  at  a  time,  and  established  arbitrary  govern- 
ment by  "  running "  the  State,  solely  according  to  his  own 
despotic  will. 

We  may  find  a  further  reason  for  Shakespeare's  tenderness 
towards  Henry  VIII.,  notwithstanding  that  despot's  suppression 
and  plunder  of  the  monasteries,  in  the  fact  that  he  distributed  a 
large  portion  of  the  spoils  of  those  institutions,  in  the  way  of 
lands,  among  his  favourite  nobles.  Probably  broad  acres  of  them 
were  inherited  by  Shakespeare's  especial  patrons,  Essex  and 
Southampton.  This  fact  could  hardly  have  influenced  the  mind 
of  Bacon,  had  he  been  the  author  of  the  Shakespeare  plays ;  nor 
would  the  Protestant  Lord  Chancellor  have  passed  so  tenderly 
and  so  respectfully  over  the  characters  of  Bloody  Mary  and  the 
bigot  Katharine  of  Arragon,  had  his  been  the  pen  which  traced 
the  drama.  He  certainly  would  not  have  pardoned  Henry  the 
burning  of  the  fourteen  Anabaptists,  and  the  boiling  of  many 
full-fledged  Protestants  in  oil.  The  most  that  the  minister,  who 
persuaded  Elizabeth  to  execute  the  Catholic  Mary  Queen  of 
Scotts,  could  have  done  in  this  connexion,  would  have  been  to 
have  preserved  a  decorous  silence  upon  these  points,  in  deference 
to  his  royal  mistress.  He  certainly  would  not  have  alluded  to 
the  wild  boar,  her  father,  whose  tusks  were  always  dripping 
with  the  blood  of  martyred  innocents,  in  the  beautiful  invoca- 
tion,— 

Ever  beloved  and  loving  may  his  rule  be ; 
And  when  old  Time  shall  lead  him  to  his  end, 
Goodness  and  he  fill  up  one  monument. 

19 


278  Shakespeare^  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE  TRAGEDIES. "  TROILUS   AND    CRESSIDA." 

THE  chief  interest  of  "  Troilus  and  Cressida,"  as  far  as  our  in- 
quiry is  concerned,  turns,  like  the  play  of  "  King  Henry  VIII.," 
mainly  on  the  date  of  its  production  by  the  author. 

And  this,  because  the  disciples  of  the  theory  that  Sir  Francis 
Bacon  was  the  author  of  the  Shakespearian  dramas  find,  in  the 
play  before  us  (which  they  say  was  produced  in  1609),  an 
erroneous  quotation  from  Aristotle,  which  had  previously  ap- 
peared, in  an  incorrect  form,  in  Bacon's  "Advancement  of 
Learning/'  printed  in  1605. 

The  phrase  alluded  to  occurs  in  Act  II.  Scene  2,  where  Hector 
replies  to  the  objections  urged  by  Paris  and  Troilus  against 
returning  the  captive  Helen  to  the  Greeks  :— 

HECTOE.    Paris  and  Troilus,  you  have  both  said  well ; 
And  on  the  cause  and  question  now  in  hand 
Have  glozed,  hut  superficially ;  not  muck 
Unlike  young  men,  whom  Aristotle  thought 
Unfit  to  hear  MOEAL  philosophy. 

"  In  the  f  Advancement  of  Learning/  "  says  Judge  Holmes 
(the  great  chief  of  the  Baconian  theorists),  "  Bacon  quotes 
Aristotle  as  saying  that  young  men  are  no  fit  auditors  of  MORAL 
philosophy"  because  "  they  are  not  settled  from  the  boiling  heat 
of  their  affections,  nor  attempered  with  time  and  experience." 

Now,  inasmuch  as  Aristotle,  in  the  expression  thus  attributed 
to  him,  speaks  of  political  philosophy  instead  of  moral  philosophy, 
and  as  this  error  is  repeated  in  the  Shakespearian  play,  published 
four  years  afterwards,  Judge  Holmes  thinks  the  circumstance 
indicates  that  Lord  Bacon  wrote  both  that  work  and  the  play. 
He  admits  "that  an  older  play  of  this  name  (f Troilus  and 
Cressida '},  perhaps  an  earlier  sketch  of  this  very  one,  had  been 


"  Troilus  and  Cressida"  2 79 

entered  upon  the  'Stationers'  Register'  in  1602-3,  but  never 
printed  •" *  and  then  volunteers  the  remark  that  "  there  is  much 
reason  to  believe  that  it  (the  earlier  sketch)  was  by  another 
author  altogether/'  We  cannot  but  regret  that  the  judge, 
having  gone  to  this  extremity,  did  not  give  us  a  reason  for 
his  opinion. 

I  do  not  accept  Judge  Holmes'  dates,  nor  do  I  agree  with  his 
deductions.  The  weight  of  authority  among  the  commentators 
is,  that  the  earlier  piece  of  1602-3  was  Shakespeare's  own ;  and 
that  the  edition  of  1609  was  a  revised  and  perfected  version  of 
the  same ;  or,  to  use  the  phrase  of  that  day,  a  copy  that  had 
been  "  toucht  up."  Nevertheless  the  judgment  of  the  two  Shake- 
spearian societies  of  Germany  and  England  are  widely  at  variance 
upon  this  point  of  date;  though  it  must  be  remarked  that 
their  disagreement  does  not  comprehend  the  discussion  of  the 
Baconian  theory. 

The  "  Trial  Table "  of  Mr.  Furnival  (as  to  the  date  of  the 
plays),  published  under  the  auspices  of  the  New  Shakespeare 
Society  of  London,  sets  the  supposed  date  of  the  production  by 
Shakespeare  of  "Troilus  and  Cressida/'  at  1606-7,  and  places 
the  year  of  its  publication  at  1609.  On  the  other  hand,  Pro- 
fessor Hertzberg,  a  man  of  great  erudition,  writing  under  the 
auspices  of  the  GERMAN  Shakespeare  Society,  puts  the  date  of 
its  production  down  at  1603.  Hunter  again  decides  for  1609; 
but  the  Rev.  Wm.  Harness2  declares  for  1602-3.  Knight  does 


1  "  The  Authorship  of  Shakespeare,"  by  Nathaniel  Holmes,  Judge,  and 
Professor  of  Law  in  Harvard  University,  pp.  48,  49,  50. 

2  The  following  is  the  statement  of  Harness,  at  the  introduction  of  this 
play  :— 

"  This  play  was  entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  Feb.,  1602-3,  under  the  title  of 
'  The  Booke  of  Troilus  and  Cressida, '  and  was  therefore  probably  written  in 
1602.  It  was  not  printed  till  1609,  when  it  was  preceded  by  an  advertise- 
ment of  the  editor,  stating  that  '  it  had  never  been  staled  with  the  stage, 
never  clapper-clawed  with  the  palms  of  the  vulgar.'  Yet,  as  the  tragedy  was 
entered  in  1602-3,  as  acted  by  my  Lord  Chamberlain's  men,  we  must  suppose 
that  the  editor's  words  do  not  mean  that  it  had  never  been  presented  at  all, 
but  only  at  court,  and  not  on  the  public  stage. 

"  There  was  a  play  upon  this  subject,  written  by  Decker  and  Chettle,  in 
1599 ;  the  original  story  of  'Troilus  and  Cressida'  was  the  work  of  Lollius,  a 
historiographer  of  Urbino,  in  Italy.  It  was,  according  to  Dry  den,  written  in 
Latin  verse,  and  translated  by  Chaucer.  Shakespeare  received  the  greater 


280  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

not  positively  fix  upon  any  date ;  but  I  may  remark,  that  had  he 
and  his  contemporaries  foreseen  the  question  of  Baconism  which 
has  been  raised  upon  the  above  erroneous  duplication.,  much  more 
attention  would  probably  have  been  devoted  to  the  date  of 
publication.  It  must  be  admitted,  however,  that  very  plausible 
evidence  in  favour  of  1609  is  to  be  found  in  the  printer's  preface 
of  the  edition  of  that  date. 

This  printer's  or  editor's  preface  is  headed  or  addressed  as 
follows  : — 

"A  NEVER  WRITER  TO  AN  EVER  READER. 

"  NEWES. 

(<  Eternall  reader,  you  have  heere  a  new  play  never  staPd  with 
the  stage,  never  clapper-clawed  with  the  palmes  of  the  vulger, 
and  yet  passing  full  of  the  palme  comicall ;  for  it  is  a  birth 
of  a  braine,  that  never  undertook  anything  comicall  vainely; 
and  were  but  the  vaine  name  of  comedies  changde  for  the  titles 
of  commodoties,  or  of  playes  for  pleas,  you  should  see  all  those 
grand  censors,  that  now  stile  them  such  vanities,  flock  to  them 
for  the  main  grace  of  their  gravities ;  especially,  this  author's 
comedies  that  are  so  framed  to  the  life,  that  they  serve  for  the 
most  common  commentaries  of  all  the  actions  of  our  lives, 
showing  such  a  dexteritie,  and  power  of  witte,  that  the  most  dis- 
pleased with  playes  are  pleased  with  his  comedies.  So  much 
and  such  savor'd  salt  of  witte  is  in  his  comedies,  that  they  seem 
to  be  borne  in  that  sea  that  brought  forth  Venus.  Amongst  all 
there  is  none  more  witty  than  this;  and  had  I  time  I  would 
comment  upon  it,  though  I  know  it  needs  not  (for  so  much  as 
will  make  you  think  your  testern  well  bestow'd),  but  for  so  much 
worth,  as  even  poore  I  know  to  be  stuft  in  it — certainly,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  of  that,  your  worship.  It  deserves  such  a 
labour,  as  well  as  the  besb  comedy  in  Terence  or  Plautus ;  and, 
believe  this,  when  hee  is  gone,  and  his  comedies  out  of  sale,  you 
will  scramble  for  them,  and  set  up  a  new  inquisition.  Take  this 
for  a  warning,  and  at  the  perill  of  your  pleasures  losse  and  judg- 
ments, refuse  not,  nor  like'  this  the  lesse  for  not  sullied  with  the 
smoaky  breath  of  the  multitude;  but  thanke  fortune  for  the 
•'scape  it  hath  made  amongst  you.  Since,  by  the  grand  possessors' 

part  of  his  materials  from  the  '  Troy  Booke '  of  Lydgate,  and  the  romance  of 
'  The  Three  Destructions  of  Troy.'  " 


"  Troihis  and  Cressida."  281 

wills,  I  believe,  you  should  have  pray'd  for  them,  rather 
than  been  pray'd.  And  so  I  leave  all  such  to  be  pray'd  for 
(for  the  states  of  their  wits'  healths)  that  will  not  praise  it. — 
Vale  I" 

The  extremity  to  which  the  Baconians  are  driven  for  their 
arguments  is  strikingly  manifest  in  the  assumption,  by  Judge 
Holmes,  that  the  above  preface  was  written  by  the  author  of  the 
play,  inasmuch  as  "  the  printer/'  says  the  Judge,  "  would  expect 
the  author  himself  to  furnish  the  preface,  as  well  then  as  now/' 
Consequently,  either  Bacon  or  Shakespeare  is  supposed  to  have 
correctly  described  himself  in  the  caption  or  head-line  of  the 
address,  as — 

"  A  never  writer  to  an  ever  reader." 

Unfortunately  for  the  theory  of  this  assumed  confession, 
Shakespeare  has  been  mentioned,  by  his  contemporary,  Meares, 
as  the  reputed  author  of  several  plays,  previous  to  1598,  two  of 
them  bearing  his  name  as  author,  while  in  1593-4,  four  years 
earlier,  he  had  dedicated  his  undisputed  "  Venus  and  Adonis," 
and  his  "  Rape  of  Lucrece,"  to  the  Earl  of  Southampton,  over 
his  own  signature.  These  latter,  and  the  Sonnets  which  accom- 
pany them,  are  indisputably  Shakespeare's  productions,  and  are 
filled  with  proofs,  not  only  in  the  marks  of  his  genius,  but  in 
numerous  forms  of  expression,  that  their  author  was  entirely 
capable  of  the  production  of  the  dramas  which  followed  under 
the  same  name ;  nay,  that  the  same  mind  must  have  produced 
them  both.  If,  therefore,  William  Shakespeare  did  not  write 
the  Shakespearian  dramas,  the  questions  arise,  who  wrote  Venus 
and  Adonis,  Lucrece,  and  the  Sonnets  ?  And  let  me  ask  who 
claims  the  latter  for  Sir  Francis  Bacon  ? 

Besides,  it  is  illogical  to  attempt  to  fix  the  date  of  the  produc- 
tion of  "  Troilus  and  Cressida  "  as  subsequent  to  the  production 
of  Bacon's  "Advancement"  (in  1605),  simply  because  the 
printer's  preface  to  the  edition  of  1609  speaks  of  it  as  a  new 
play,  which  had  never  been  "  sullied  with  the  smoaky  breath  of 
the  multitude."  For  it  is  admitted  that  it  had  not  been  played 
previous  to  1609,  and  that  then,  having  been  first  performed  at 
court  "  before  the  King's  Majesty,"  by  the  Lord  Chamberlain's 
players,  on  the  occasion  of  some  royal  revels,  it  passed  into  the 
printer's  hands,  on  its  transition  to  the  general  public.  Moreover, 


282  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

everything  in  the  preface  indicates  that  the  author  of  the  play 
could  not  have  been  the  writer  of  that  bombastic  effusion.  Such 
self-laudation  would  have  been  repulsive;  and  Shakespeare's 
well-known  modesty  about  his  writings,,  or,  at  least,  his  notorious 
indifference  to  their  renown,  except  in  the  way  of  dramatic 
exhibition,  is  utterly  at  variance  with  any  such  charge  against 
him,  and  certainly,  also,  as  against  Bacon.  The  whole  tenor  of 
the  preface  indicates  rather  that  Shakespeare,  who  had  written 
the  play  in  1602-3,  had,  after  it  had  been  held  in  reserve  for  six 
years,  touched  it  up  for  the  use  of  the  court  revels  of  1609,  and 
then  had  sold  the  copyright  to  some  publisher,  that  he  might 
produce  it  as  a  new  play,  with  such  introductory  remarks  as  he 
pleased*  Whether  the  misquoted  phrase  from  Aristotle  was  in 
the  original  sketch  of  1602-3,  and  was  copied  therefrom  into  the 
"  Advancement "  by  Bacon,  who  had  probably  heard  it  read 
(along  with  the  Lords  Essex  and  Southampton,  as  was  cus- 
tomary between  patrons  and  authors  in  those  days),  or  whether 
Shakespeare  had  interpolated  the  phrase  from  the  "Advance- 
ment "  into  his  perfect  play  of  1609,  is  not  material  to  the 
point  of  authorship.  The  instances  in  literature  of  such  plagia- 
risms are  innumerable,  and  as  the  whole  world  has  been  tres- 
passing upon  the  mind  of  Shakespeare  as  a  general  literary  com- 
mon for  over  two  hundred  years,  the  presumption  that  Bacon 
copied,  from  memory,  the  Aristotlean  expression,  with  its  error, 
from  Shakespeare,  instead  of  Shakespeare  from  Bacon,  has  far 
the  greatest  share  of  probability.  First,  because  it  was  an 
erroneous  translation,  which  Bacon  would  not  have  made  had 
he  translated  the  phrase  for  himself;  and,  second,  because 
Shakespeare,  in  his  first  sketch  of  1602-3,  undoubtedly 
changed  the  Aristotlean  term  of  "political  philosophy  "  to  that 
of  "moral  philosophy,"  in  order  to  adapt  the  rebuke  of 
Hector  to  Paris  and  Troilus — both  of  whom  were  notoriously 
immoral  young  gallants.  I  think  that  in  this  we  have 
the  secret  of  the  paraphrase;  and  I  believe  that,  while  the 
change  of  the  word  political  for  moral  was  intentional  with 
Shakespeare,  the  plagiarism  resulted  from  Bacon's  taking  it 
on  trust,  in  using  it.  In  this  connexion  it  should  be 
mentioned  that  Bacon  expresses  the  same  opinions,  some- 
what more  fully,  in  the  "De  Augmentis  "  (published  in  1623), 
that  "  young  men  are  less  fit  auditors  of  policy  than  of  morals, 


"  Troilus  and  Cressida"  283 

until  they  have  been  thoroughly  seasoned  in  religion  and  the 
doctrine  of  morals." 3 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind,  moreover,  that  at  the  time  Bacon 
published  the  " Advancement "  (1605),  where  this  erroneous 
quotation  first  appeared  under  his  auspices,  William  Shake- 
speare was  the  reigning  literary  reputation,  both  as  a  dramatist 
and  poet ;  and  we  may  somewhat  measure  the  extent  of  the  fame 
which  our  poet  acquired  in  his  own  day  and  generation  by 
the  fact  that,  though  he  died  in  1616,  there  were  six  reprints  of 
his  works,  in  quarto  form,  between  that  date  and  the  appearance 
of  the  folio  edition  of  1623.  Yet,  though  Bacon  lived  to  see 
the  great  renown  of  Shakespeare,  and  to  make  a  most  careful 
revise  of  his  own  works  in  1625,  these  Baconian  claimants  would 
have  us  believe,  in  one  breath,  that  he  was  utterly  indifferent  to 
the  revision  of  these  wondrous  dramas,  and  in  the  next,  that  he 
was  secretly  so  thirsty  for  their  just  appreciation,  as  to  have 
written  a  printer's  preface  to  one  of  them,  in  1609,  claiming  it  to 
be  the  equal  of  "the  best  comedy  in  Terence  or  Plautus." 
Again,  though  these  mighty  dramatic  creations  never  received 
any  correcting  touch  from  Bacon's  hand,  one  of  his  own  acknow- 
ledged works  was  revised  by  him  twelve  times.  Another  point 
made  by  the  Baconians  is,  that  the  name  of  William  Shakespeare 
is  never  once  mentioned  in  all  of  Bacon's  voluminous  productions, 
nor  is  Bacon's  name  alluded  to  by  Shakespeare ;  and  yet  Shake- 
speare was  the  man  who  notoriously,  even  to  the  perceptions  of 
that  age,  divided  with  the  great  philosopher  the  renown  of  the 
realm  of  thought.  The  Baconians  declare  this  silence  as  to 
Shakespeare  to  be  a  part  of  the  philosopher' s/  theory  of  con- 
cealment; but  would  it  not  be  more  natural  to  regard  it  as 
an  evidence  of  literary  jealousy?  Shakespeare  divided  the 
applause  of  the  world  with  one  who  had  expected  to  bear  the 
palm  alone;  Judge  Holmes,  Delia  Bacon,  and  their  followers, 
try  to  mend  the  matter  by  rolling  both  these  human  wonders 
into  one. 

The  original  source  of  the  story  of  "  Troilus  and  Cressida"  was, 
according  to  Dryden,  one  Lollius,  a  Lombard,  who  wrote  it  in 
Latin  verse,  from  which  it  was  translated  by  Chaucer,  and 
put  into  English  lines,  in  the  form  of  a  poem  of  five  long 

3  Holmes'  "  Authorship  of  Shakespeare,"  p.  49. 


284  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

cantos.  It  must  be  noticed,  too,  that  there  were  also  three 
English  ballads  during  the  sixteenth  century  which,  accord- 
ing to  Halliwell,  treated  of  the  same  subject ;  and,  likewise, 
a  piece  of  the  same  title  which  was  written  by  Chettle 
and  Decker,  about  1599.  The  common  originator  of  all  these 
English  productions,  however,  was  the  poet  Chaucer,  "who," 
remarks  Knight,  "  was  the  one  who  would  have  the  great- 
est charm  for  Shakespeare  ....  though  the  whole 
story,  under  the  treatment  of  Shakespeare,  becomes  thoroughly 
original." 

/  Coleridge  thinks  that  it  was  the  object  of  Shakespeare,  in 
this  grand  Homeric  poem,  "to  translate  the  poetic  heroes  of 
Paganism  into  the  not  less  rude,  but  more  intellectually  vigorous, 
and  more  featurely  warriors  of  Christian  chivalry,  and  to  sub- 
stantiate the  distinct  and  graceful  profiles  or  outlines  of  the 
Homeric  epic,  into  the  flesh  and  blood  of  the  romantic  drama. " 
In  the  estimation  of  that  very  scholarly  and  competent  American 
critic,  Gulian  C.  Verplanck,  the  beauties  of  this  play  "  are  of  the 
highest  order.  It  contains  passages  fraught  with  moral  truth 
and  polical  wisdom — high  truths,  in  large  and  philosophical  dis- 
course, such  as  remind  us  of  the  loftiest  disquisitions  of  Hooker, 

or   Jeremy  Taylor,  on   the   foundations   of  social   law 

\The  piece  abounds,  too,  in  passages  of  the  most  profound  and 
jpersuasive  practical  ethics,  and  grave  advice  for  the  government 
/of  life."  ' 

"  The  feeling  which  the  study  of  Shakespeare's  '  Troilus  and 
Cressida'  calls  forth,"  says  Knight,  "is  that  of  almost  pros- 
tration before  the  marvellous  intellect  which  has  produced 

it But   the    play   cannot    be    understood    upon    a 

mere  superficial  reading;  it  is  full  of  the  most  subtle  art. 
We  may  set  aside  particular  passages,  and  admire  their  surpass- 
ing eloquence — their  profound  wisdom;  but  it  is  long  before 
the  play,  as  a  whole,  obtains  its  proper  mastery  over  the  under- 
standing." 

All  of  the  above  eulogiums,  upon  the  merits  of  the  better 
parts  of  this  most  wonderful  drama,  must  be  heartily  admitted ; 
nevertheless,  the  main  and  most  conspicuous  aspect  of  the  piece 
\  is  that  of  an  essay  inculcating  female  licentiousness  and  prostitu- 
tion. The  knights  of  Troy,  with  the  heroic  Hector  at  their 
head,  wield  their  swords  to  protect  the  abandoned  Helen  in  her 


"  Troilus  and  Cressida"  285 

adulterous  joys;  and  an  uncle  and  a  father  scheme  to  lead  the 
beautiful  but  sensuous  Cressida  to  a  harlot's  bed.  All  that  is 
abandoned  and  debased  in  woman  is  made  to  figure  agreeably  in 
these  two  alluring  wantons ;  while  the  language  of  the  latter  is 
deliberately  framed  to  stir  the  coarser  appetites  of  the  general 
audience.  Well  may  it  be  assumed  that  Bacon  would  naturally 
have  been  ashamed  to  acknowledge  his  patronage  of  such  a 
theme  as  this ;  and,  for  the  matter  of  that,  William  Shakespeare 
also !  Nevertheless,  the  play,  in  despite  of  the  lowness  of  its 
leading  motive,  is  certainly  one  of  the  greatest  of  our  bard's 
productions. 

One  thing  is  certain,  the  broad  text  and  lascivious  pictures  of 
this  play,  and  those  also  of  "  Timon  of  Athens/'  which  follows  it, 
could  not  have  flamed  from  the  cold-brained  philosopher  whose 
biographers  delight  to  report  as  one  whose  "habits  were  regular, 
frugal,  and  temperate,  and  whose  life  was  pure."  4 

Certainly,  no  "  frugal,  temperate  philosopher  of  sober  habits  and 
pure  life  "  could  have  acquired  that  quickness  of  the  amorous  sense 
which  enabled  Shakespeare,  through  the  language  of  Ulysses, 
to  picture,  as  it  were,  that  dancing  white  heat  which  constantly 
played  about  Cressida's  dimpled  limbs — that  satin  sheen  of 
procreative  mystery ;  that  torrid  atmosphere  of  quivering  noon ; 
that  lambent  loveliness  which,  in  the  interest  of  nature,  bathes 
even  ugliness  with  a  lurid  charm. 

ULYSSES.  Fye,  fye  upon  her ! 

'There's  language  in  her  eye,  her  cheek,  her  lip, 

Nay,  her  foot  speaks  ;  her  wanton  spirits  look  out 

At  every  joint  and  motion  of  her  body. 

O,  these  encounterers,  so  glib  of  tongue, 
•That  give  a  coasting  welcome  ere  it  comes, 

And  wide  unclasp  the  tables  of  their  thoughts 

To  every  ticklish  reader  !  Set  them  down 

For  sluttish  spoils  of  opportunity, 

And  daughters  of  the  game. 

This  was  not  the  voice  of  the  philosophic  sage  issuing  from 
"the  tranquil  retreats  at  Gorhambury,"  breathing  from  "the 

4  See,  in  Act  IV.  Scene  1  of  "  Hamlet,"  the  three  last  lines  of  the  king's 
third  speech. 


286    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

classic  groves  of  Twickenham  Park,"  or  "  the  musty  cloisters  of 
Gray's  Inn ;"  but  the  luxurious  soul  of  the  handsome  London 
manager,  whose  amorous  wrongs  at  the  hands  of  some  London 
Cressida  were  echoed  by  Leontes  in  "  Winter's  Tale/' and  re-echoed 
in  the  agonized  wail : 

But,  O,  what  damned  minutes  tells  he  o'er, 

Who  dotes,  yet  doubts ;  suspects,  yet  strongly  loves  ! 


SHAKESPEARE'S  LEGAL  ACQUIREMENTS. 

The  search  made  by  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell,  through 
the  text  of  "  Troilus  and  Cressida,"  for  evidences  of  the  legal 
acquirements  of  Shakespeare  is  not  very  largely  rewarded,  and  I 
do  not  think  that  the  manner  in  which  his  lordship  presents 
them  adds  much  to  the  argument  to  which  they  are  devoted. 
With  the  view,  however,  of  being  thoroughly  just  to  the  learned 
Judge,  I  herewith  transcribe  the  entire  of  his  remarks  upon  this 
production : — 

"  Troilus  and  Cressida. — In  this  play  the  author  shows  his 
insatiable  desire  to  illustrate  his  descriptions  of  kissing,  by  his 
recollection  of  the  forms  used  in  executing  deeds.  When  Pan- 
darus  (Act  III.  Scene  2)  has  brought  Troilus  and  Cressida 
together  in  the  orchard  to  gratify  their  wanton  inclinations,  he 
advises  Troilus  to  give  Cressida  (a  kiss  in  fee-farm,3  which 
Malone  explains  to  be  4  a  kiss  of  a  duration  that  has  no  bounds, 
a  fee-farm  being  a  grant  of  lands  in  fee,  that  is,  for  ever,  re- 
serving a  rent  certain.' 

"The  advice  of  Pandarus  to  the  lovers  being  taken,  he 
exclaims, — 

What !  billing  again  ?  Here's — In  witness  the  parties  interchange- 
ably— 

the  exact  form  of  the  testatum  clause  in  an  indenture — '  In  witness 
whereof,  the  parties  interchangeably  have  hereto  set  their  hands 
and  seals.' 

"To   avoid  a   return   to   this   figure  of  speech,  I   may  here 


"  Troilus  and  Cressida"  287 

mention  other  instances  in  which  Shakespeare  introduces  it.     In 
"  Measure  for  Measure/"  Act  IV.  Scene  1 : — 

But  my  kisses  bring  again 
Seals  of  love,  but  seaVd  in  vain ; 


and  in  his  poem  of f  Venus  and  Adonis  :' — 

Pure  lips,  sweet  seals  in  my  soft  lips  imprinted, 
What  bargains  may  I  make,  still  to  be  sealing  ?" 

May  I  hope  that  the  friends  of  his  lordship  will  excuse  me  if  I 
say  that  these  instances  are  illustrations  only  of  an  acute  critical 
faculty  having1  been  unduly  taxed  ?  , 


a88  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

"TIMON  OP  ATHENS." 

THIS  play  was  supposed  to  have  been  produced  by  Shakespeare  in 
1607-8,  but  not  published  until  after  his  death,  and  then  first  in 
the  folio  of  1623.  The  story  is  taken  mainly  from  North's 
"  Plutarch/'  and  partly  from  Lucian.  There  was,  however,  an 
English  manuscript  play  before  it,  written  by  some  unknown 
author,  which,  inasmuch  as  it  contained  the  character  of  a  faith- 
ful steward,  and  a  mock  banqueting- scene  like  that  introduced 
in  our  poet's  version  of  "  Timon/'  has  naturally  received  a  portion 
of  the  credit  of  its  origination.  The  faithful  steward,  it  may 
readily  be  supposed  from  what  we  have  seen  of  Shakespeare's 
tendencies,  would  not  have  appeared  in  "  Timon,"  had  not  some 
one  else  produced  him  to  his  hand,  as  in  the  case  of  Adam  in 
' '  As  You  Like  It ; "  and  it  is  noticeable,  moreover,  that  in  this 
case  our  poet  exhibits  a  disposition  to  reward  the  steward 
Flavius  for  his  honesty,  according  to  the  original,  which  was 
more  than  he  did  for  poor  old  Adam.  The  play  is  a  satire  upon 
the  gratitude  of  the  world,  in  which  it  seems  to  me  that 
Timon  is  too  readily  transformed  into  a  misanthrope,  because  a 
few  flatterers,  whom  he  had  feasted  in  his  wealthy  days,  refused 
to  lend  him  money  when  he  failed. 

The  first  evidence  we  have  of  the  faithfulness  of  Flavius  is  in 
Act  II.  Scene  2,  where  we  find  the  steward  deploring,  with  many 
moans,  the  descent  of  Timon  into  bankruptcy.  Nevertheless,  he 
bewails  his  master's  prodigality  with  such  a  natural  consideration 
for  the  continuance  of  his  own  profitable  post,  that  he  makes  no 
great  impression  for  virtuous  disinterestedness. 

FLAVIUS.  Heavens  !  have  I  said,  the  bounty  of  this  lord ! 

How  many  prodigal  bits  have  slaves  and  peasants, 
This  ni^ht  englutted  ! 


"  Timon  of  Athens"  289 

In  the  same,  and  in  the  following  act,  the  household  servants 
of  Timon  (chorussed  by  the  servants  of  the  faithless  friends)  pity 
his  fallen  fortunes  with  a  cynical  tone  and  motive ;  and,  at  the 
same  time,  avail  themselves  of  the  opportunity  to  scandalize  their 
several  employers,  to  an  extent  quite  in  accord  with  Shakespeare's 
usual  representation  of  merit  in  the  mean. 

At  the  opening  of  the  fourth  act  the  bankrupt  and  disgusted 
Timon  appears,  self-exiled,  without  the  walls  of  Athens,  on  his 
way  to  the  woods,  as  a  recluse  : — 

TIM.  Let  me  look  back  upon  thee,  0  thou  wall, 

That  girdlest  in  those  wolves  !     Dive  in  the  earth, 

And  fence  not  Athens  !     Matrons  turn  incontinent ; 

Obedience  fail  in  children !  slaves,  and  fools, 

Pluck  the  grave  wrinkled  senate  from  the  bench, 

And  minister  in  their  steads  !  to  general  filths 

Convert  o'  the  instant,  green  virginity  ! 

Do't  in  your  parents'  eyes  !  bankrupts,  hold  fast ; 

Eather  than  render  back,  out  with  your  knives, 

And  cut  your  trusters'  throats  !     Bound  servants,  steal ! 

Large-handed  robbers  your  grave  masters  are, 

And  pill  by  law !     Maid,  to  thy  master's  bed ; 

Thy  mistress  is  o'  the  brothel !  •  Son  of  sixteen, 

Pluck  the  lined  crutch  from  the  old  limping  sire, 

With  it  beat  out  his  brains  ! 

Presently,  when  driven  by  hunger  to  dig  for  roots,  he  discovers 
gold  in  large  quantity  at  the  base  of  a  tree : — 

What  is  here  ? 

Gold  ?  fellow,  glittering,  precious  gold  ?    No,  gods, 
I  am  no  idle  votarist.     Eoots,  you  clear  heavens ! 
Thus  much  of  this,  will  make  black  white ;  foul,  fair  ; 
Wrong,  right ;  base,  noble ;  old,  young ;  coward,  valiant. 
Ha,  you  gods  !  why  this  ?     What  this,  you  gods  ?     Why  this 
Will  lug  your  priests  and  servants  from  your  sides ; 
Pluck  stout  men's  pillows  from  below  their  heads  : 
This  yellow  slave 

Will  knit  and  break  religions  ;  bless  the  accursed ; 
Make  the  hoar  leprosy  adored  ;  place  thieves, 
And  give  them  title,  knee,  and  approbation, 
With  senators  on  the  bench :  this  is  it, 
That  makes  the  wappen'd  widow  wed  again  ; 
She,  whom  the  spital-house,  and  ulcerous  sores 
Would  cast  the  gorge  at,  this  embalms  and  spices 
To  the  April  day  again.     Come,  damned  earth, 


290    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Thou  common  whore  of  mankind,  thqt  pnt'st  odds 

Among  the  rout  of  nations,  I  will  make  thee 

Do  thy  right  nature. — {March  afar  off'.'] — Ha !   a  drum  ?    Thou'rt 

quick, 

But  yet  I'll  bury  thee  :  Thou'lt  go,  strong  thief, 
When  gouty  keepers  of  thee  cannot  stand. 

The  news  of  Timon's  possession  of  gold  is  carried  back  to 
Athens  by  the  army,  and  soon  his  old  flatterers  flock  out  to  the 
wood  to  pay  fresh,  court  to  him.  Among  the  rest  comes  Flavius, 
the  steward.  He  alone  receives  kind  treatment  from  the  misan- 
thrope, along  with  gold,  and  Timon  recognizes  his  honesty  as 
follows : — 

TIM.    Had  I  a  steward  so  true,  so  just,  and  now 

So  comfortable  ?     It  almost  turns 

My  dangerous  nature  wild.     Let  me  behold 

Thy  face. — Surely,  this  man  was  born  of  woman. — 

Forgive  my  general  and  exceptless  rashness, 

Perpetual-sober  gods  !     I  do  proclaim 

One  honest  man, — mistake  me  not, — but  one  ; 

No  more,  I  pray, — and  he  is  a  steward. — 

How  fain  would  I  have  hated  all  mankind, 

Andthou  redeem'st  thyself:     But  all,  save  thee, 

I  fell  with  curses. 

Methinks,  thou  art  more  honest  now,  than  wise  ; 

For,  by  oppressing  and  betraying  me, 

Thou  might'st  have  sooner  got  another  service  : 

For  many  so  arrive  at  second  masters, 

Upon  their  first  lord's  neck.     But  tell  me  true, 

(For  I  must  ever  doubt,  though  ne'er  so  sure), 

Is  not  thy  kindness  subtle,  covetous, 

If  not  a  usuring  kindness  ;  and  as  rich  men  deal  gifts, 

Expecting  in  return  twenty  for  one  ? 
FLAV.  No,  my  most  worthy  master,  in  whose  breast 

Doubt  and  suspect,  alas,  are  placed  too  late ; 

You  should  have  fear'd  false  times,  when  you  did  feast. 

Suspect  still  comes  where  an  estate  is  least. 

That  which  I  show,  heaven  knows,  is  merely  love. 
*  #  * 

TIM.    Look  thee,  'tis  so !     Thou  singly  honest  man, 
Here,  take : — the  gods  out  of  my  misery 
Have  sent  thee  treasure.     Go,  live  rich,  and  happy 
But  thus  condition'd :  Thou  shalt  build  from  men ; 
Hate  all,  curse  all :  Show  charity  to  none ; 
But  let  the  famish'd  flesh  slide  from  the  bone, 
Ere  thou  relieve  the  beggar :  Give  to  dogs 


"  Timon  of  Athens"  291 

What  thou  deny'st  to  men ;  let  prisons  swallow  them, 

Debts  wither  them :  Be  men  like  blasted  woods, 

And  may  diseases  lick  up  their  false  bloods  ! 

And  so,  farewell,  and  thrive. 
FLAV.  0,  let  me  stay, 

And  comfort  you,  mv  master. 
TIM.  Ifthouhat'st 

Curses,  stay  not ;  fly  whilst  thou  art  blest  and  free : 

Ne'er  see  thou  man,  and  let  me  ne'er  see  thee. 

Act  IV.  Scene  3. 

I  make  this  quotation  at  such  length  because  this  is  the 
second  instance,  only,  out  of  twenty-nine  plays,  in  which  a  man 
of  less  rank  than  a  noble,  or  a  knight,  is  spoken  of  with  appro- 
bation and  respect.  The  first  instance,  as  I  have  already  stated, 
is  that  of  old  Adam,  in  "  As  You  Like  It."  It  is  worthy  of 
observation,  however,  that  one  of  the  characters,  at  the  opening 
of  the  next  act,  reports  that  Timon  had  given  io  his  steward  "  a 
mighty  sum."  And  here  it  should  be  remarked,  moreover,  that 
the  stewards  of  great  lords  and  millionaires,  like  Timon,  were  often 
of  exceedingly  good  families,  as  we  see  by  the  steward  of  Goneril 
in  "  King  Lear,"  who  is  almost  a  cabinet  minister. 

This  play  furnishes  us  with  but  one  other  illustration  bearing 
on  our  special  points  of  view ;  and  that  springs  from  the  rude 
construction  of  Timon's  epitaph  at  the  close.  Those  who  favour 
the  theory  that  Sir  Francis  Bacon  was  the  author  of  the  Shake- 
spearian dramas,  denounce  the  epitaph  on  our  poet's  tomb,  for 
the  meanness  of  its  style,  and  boldly  assert  that  it  came  from 
Shakespeare  when  he  was  drawing  near  his  end,  with  no  one  of 
talent  near  at  hand  to  help  construct  it.  In  order  to  measure 
the  worth  of  this  opinion,  I  will  here  quote  the  epitaph  from 
Timon,  and  compare  it  with  the  other  : — 

Here  lies  a  wretched  corse,  of  wretched  soul  bereft, 

Seek  not  my  name.    A  plague  consume  you  wicked  caitiffs  left ! 

Here  lie  I,  Timon,  who,  alive,  all  living  men  did  hate, 

Pass  by  and  curse  thy  fill ;  but  pass,  and  stay  not  here  thy  gait. 

The  following  is  the  epitaph  in  the  Stratford  church,  and  it 
will  be  perceived  that,  so  far  as  style  is  concerned,  one  doggerel 
has  but  little  the  advantage  of  the  other : — 

Good  friend,  for  Jesus'  sake  forbear, 
To  dig  the  dust  enclosed  here, 
Blest  be  the  man  that  spares  these  stones, 
And  curst  be  he  that  moves  my  bones. 


292    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


CHAPTER  XXX, 


a  IN  the  arrangement  of  the  plays  of  Shakespeare  in  a  serial 
form,  it  would  seem/'  says  Hunter,  "  that  '  Coriolanus '  should 
follow  '  Julius  CaBsar  *  and  '  Antony  and  Cleopatra/  since  it  was 
probably  written  after  them/-'  But  he  also  gives  it  as  his  opinion 
that,  inasmuch  as  "  Coriolanus  "  belongs  to  a  period  of  Roman 
history  antecedent  to  that  of  the  Ca3sars,  this  play  should  precede 
the  other  two  dramas  in  the  collected  editions  of  the  dramatist's 
works.  The  Roman  plays  are  remarkably  destitute  of  notes  of 
time,  internal  or  external.  They  were  probably  produced  in 
1607,  1608,  or  1609. 

" (  Coriolanus '  itself  was  neither  entered  at  Stationers'  Hall 
nor  printed  till  1623."  "  The  leading  idea  of  the  play  and  pivot 
upon  which  all  the  action  turns/'  says  Knight,  "  is  the  contest 
for  power  in  Rome  between  the  patricians  and  plebeians  /'  and 
I  will  add  that,  in  agreement  with  all  Shakespeare's  instincts, 
tendencies,  and  previous  exhibitions  of  aristocratic  inclination, 
he  again,  in  this  play,  constantly  sides  with  arbitrary  and 
despotic  power  against  the  liberties  of  the  people. 

"  The  whole  dramatic  moral  of  '  Coriolanus,' "  says  Hazlitt,  "  is 
that  those  who  have  little  shall  have  less,  and  that  those  who 
have  much  shall  take  all  that  others  have  left.  The  people 
are  poor,  therefore  they  ought  to  be  starved.  They  work 
hard,  therefore  they  ought  to  be  treated  like  beasts  of  burden. 
They  are  ignorant,  therefore  they  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to 
feel  that  they  want  food,  or  clothing,  or  rest,  or  that  they  are 
enslaved,  oppressed,  and  miserable."  ] 

"We  see  Coriolanus,"  says  Gervinius,  "as  the  chief  re- 
presentative of  the  aristocracy,  in  strong  opposition  to  The 

1  Hazlitt's  "Characters  of  Shakespeare's  Plays,"  p.  74,  edition  1818. 


"  Coriolanus"  293 

People  and  the  Tribunes,  hence  we  naturally  take  up  the  view 
expressed  by  Hazlitt,  that  Shakespeare  had  a  leaning  to  the 
arbitrary  side  of  the  question,  to  the  aristocratical  principle,  in- 
asmuch as  he  does  not  dwell  on  the  truths  he  tells  of  the  nobles 
in  the  same  proportion  as  he  does  on  those  he  tells  of  The 
People."  2 

"In. this  struggle,"  says  the  astute  German,  " the  hero  finds 
himself  placed  in  a  situation  where  he  has  to  choose  between  his 
patriotism  and  his  private  feelings  of  hatred Corio- 
lanus renounced  a  hatred  of  the  enemy  of  his  people,  to  the 
ruin  of  his  country,  being  politically  and  morally  hardened  in 
selfishness.""  Pursuing  his  analysis  of  the  character  of  Corio- 
lanus, the  German  critic  further  on  exclaims, — • 

"  What  induced  Shakespeare  to  endow  the  hero  of  this  play 
with  this  superhuman,  demi-godlike  greatness?  History  im- 
posed upon  the  poet  a  catastrophe  of  the  rarest  kind.  Corio- 
lanus, after  his  banishment,  fights  against  his  country,  for 
which,  before,  he  would  have  striven  in  the  hardest  battles 
without  requiring  any  reward ;  he  enters  into  a  league  with  his 
bitterest  enemy  from  a  cold,  unfeeling  thirst  for  vengeance ; 
then,  at  the  certain  peril  of  his  life,  he  suddenly  abandons  this 
revenge  at  the  entreaty  of  his  mother.  These  contradictions, 
Shakespeare  thought,  could  only  be  imputed  to  a  man  who,  from 
nature  and  education,  had  carried  his  virtues  and  his  faults  to 
extremes  which  rendered  natural  the  change  of  his  different 
qualities  into  their  opposites.  This  is  managed  with  an  art  and 
a  delicacy  that  can  scarcely  be  suspected  in  the  apparently  coarse 
strokes  of  this  delineation.  First,  his  unmeasured  thirst  for 
glory,  which,  in  an  heroic  age,  can  only  seek  its  satisfaction  in 
the  praise  bestowed  on  the  highest  valour." 

11  The  subject  of  '  Coriolanus/  "  says  Dowden,  "is  the  ruin  of 
a  noble  life  through  the  sin  of  pride."  Further  on  he  remarks, 
"  It  cannot  be  denied  that  when  The  People  are  seen  in  masses 
in  Shakespeare's  plays,  they  are  nearly  always  shown  as  factious, 

fickle,  and  irrational Shakespeare  studied  and  represented 

in  his  art  the  world  which  lay  before  him.  If  he  prophesied  the 
future,  it  was  not  in  the  ordinary  manner  of  prophets,  but  only 
by  completely  embodying  the  present,  in  which  the  future  was 
contained." 

2  Gervinius,  p.  748. 
20 


294    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

This  is  very  subtle  and  ingenious;  but  it  has  no  force  in  face 
of  the  monstrous  manner  in  which  Shakespeare  falsified  the 
character  of  Jack  Cade,  and  that,  too,  directly  against  the  au- 
thority of  Hall  and  Hollinshed,  the  two  contemporaneous  court 
historians  of  the  period,  who  in  other  matters  he  always  trusted. 

"  The  author  of  <  Coriolanus/ "  says  Mr.  Walter  Bagehot,3 
"  never  believed  in  a  mob,  and  did  something  towards  preventing 
anybody  else  from  doing  so.  But  this  political  idea  was  not 

exactly  the  strongest  in  Shakespeare's  mind He  had  two 

others  stronger,  or  as  strong.  First,  the  feeling  of  loyalty  towards 
the  ancient  polity  of  his  country,  not  because  it  was  good,  but 
because  it  existed The  second  peculiar  tenet  of  his  poli- 
tical creed  is  a  disbelief  in  the  middle  classes.  We  fear  he  had 

no  opinion  of  traders You  will  generally  find  that  when 

a  citizen  is  mentioned,  he  is  made  to  do  or  to  say  something 
absurd. " 

With  these  views  from  the  foreign  critics,  I  desire,  on  my  own 
part,  to  direct  the  attention  of  the  reader,  before  proceeding  to 
let  Shakespeare  speak  for  himself  through  extracts  from  this  play, 
to  the  fact  that  he  will  find  that  its  main  purpose  is  to  deride  the 
principle  of  popular  suffrage ;  nay,  to  deny  and  scoff  at  popular 
rights  of  all  sorts,  and  especially  to  make  the  working  classes 
look  mean,  meritless,  and  cowardly.  Coriolanus,  the  haughty 
patrician,  on  the  other  hand,  though  he  is  a  cruel,  con- 
ceited, overbearing  brute,  with  no  more  policy  or  manners  than 
are  necessary  to  a  brawny  gladiator,  is  so  handled  by  our  poet 
as  to  irresistibly  win  the  sympathies  of  every  audience.  The 
most  singular,  nay,  surprising  proof  of  this  power  of  enchant- 
ment on  the  part  of  Shakespeare,  is  elicited  from  American 
audiences,  who,  in  the  face  of  their  democratic  principles,  up- 
roariously applaud  the  patrician  despot  at  every  insult  he  puts 
upon  the  masses,  and  hurrah  at  every  mock  he  makes  at  their 
competency  to  exercise  the  suffrage.  This,  while  it  says  a  great 
deal  for  the  power  of  Shakespeare,  reflects  very  little  credit  upon 
the  discrimination  of  the  American  people  ;  except,  indeed,  their 
admiration  for  his  genius  is  to  be  set  above  their  respect  for 
republican  principles. 

3  "  Estimates  of  some  Englishmen  and  Scotchmen,"  by  Walter  Bagehot, 
pp.  257—260. 


"  Coriolanus"  295 

I  will  now  proceed  to  allow  Shakespeare  to  speak  for  himself, 
with  the  simple  further  explanation  that  a  great  extent  of  text 
is  necessary,  because,  as  I  said  before,  the  whole  of  this  play  is  an 
essay  against  human  rights  and  popular  liberty : — 

Act  I.  Scene  1. — Rome.    A  Street. 

Enter  a  company  of  mutinous    Citizens,  with  staves,  clubs,  and  other 

weapons. 

1  CIT.  Before  we  proceed  any  further,  hear  me  speak. 

CIT.  Speak,  speak.  [Several  speaking  at  once. 

1  CIT.  You  are  all  resolved  rather  to  die,  than  to  famish. 

CIT.  Resolved,  resolved. 

1  CIT.  First,  you  know,  Caius  Marcius  [Coriolanus]  is  chief  enemy  to  the 
people. 

CIT.  We  know't,  we  know't. 

1  CIT.  Let  us  kill  him,  and  we'll  have  corn  at  our  own  price.     Is't  a  ver- 
dict? 

CIT.  No  more  talking  on't :  let  it  be  done :  away,  away. 

2  CIT.  One  word,  good  citizens. 

1  CIT.  We  are  accounted  poor  citizens ;  the  patricians  good :  What  authority 
surfeits  on,  would  relieve  us ;  If  they  would  yield  us  but  the  superfluity, 
while  it  were  wholesome,  we  might  guess,  they  relieved  us  humanely ;  but 
they  think,  we  are  too  dear;  the  leanness  that  afflicts  us,  the  object  of  our 
misery,  is  an  inventory  to  particularize  their  abundance ;  our  sufferance  is  a 
gain  to  them. — Let  us  revenge  this  with  our  pikes,  ere  we  become  rakes  :  for 
the  gods  know  I  speak  this  in  hunger  for  bread,  not  in  thirst  for  revenge. 

2  CIT.  Would  you  proceed  especially  against  Caius  Marcius  ? 
CIT.  Against  him  first ;  he's  a  very  dog  to  the  commonality. 

2  CIT.  Consider  you  what  services  he  has  done  for  his  country  ? 

1  CIT.  Very  well ;  and  could  be  content  to  give  him  good  report  for't,  but 
that  he  pays  himself  .with  being  proud. 

2  CIT.  Nay,  but  speak  not  maliciously. 

1  CIT.  I  say  unto  you,  what  he  hath  done  famously,  he  did  it  to  that  end ; 
though  soft  conscienced  men  can  be  content  to  say,  it  was  for  his  country,  he 
did  it  to  please  his  mother,  and  to  be  partly  proud  ;  which  he  is,  even  to  the 
altitude  of  his  virtue. 

2  CIT.  What  he  cannot  help  in  his  nature,  you  account  a  vice  in  him. : 
You  must  in  no  way  say,  he  is  covetous. 

1  CIT.  If  I  must  not,  I  need  not  be  barren  of  accusations ;  he  hath  faults, 
with  surplus.,  to  tire  in  repetition.  \_Shouts  within.']  What  shouts  are 
these  ?  The  other  side  o'  the  city  is  risen :  Why  stay  we  prating  here  ?  to 
the  Capitol. 

CIT.  Come,  come. 

1  CIT.  Soft ;  who  comes  here  ? 

Enter  MENENIUS  AGEIPPA  [a  Patrician  and  the  close  friend  of  COEIO- 
LANUS,  or  CAIUS  MAKCIUS,  as  he  is  yet  called}. 

2  CIT,  Worthy  Menenius  Agrippa ;  one  that  hath  always  loved  the  people 


296    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

1  CIT.  He's  one  honest  enough  ;  'Would  all  the  rest  were  so ! 
MEN.    What  work's,  my  countrymen,  in  hand  ?     Where  go  you, 
With  hats  and  cluhs  ?     The  matter  ?     Speak,  I  pray  you. 
1  CIT.  Our  business  is  not  unknown  to  the  senate  ;  they  have  had  inkling 
this  fortnight,  what  we  intend  to  do,  which  now  we'll  show  'em  in  deeds. 
They  say  poor  suitors  have  strong  breaths  ;  they  shall  Jcnoiv  we  have  strong 
arms,  too. 

MEN.    Why,  masters,  my  good  friends,  mine  honest  neighbours, 

Will  you  undo  yourselves  ? 
1  CIT.  We  cannot,  sir,  we  are  undone  already. 
MEN.   I  tell  you,  friends,  most  charitable  care 

Have  the  patricians  of  you.     For  your  wants, 
Your  suffering  in  this  dearth,  you  may  as  well 
Strike  at  the  heaven  with  your  staves,  as  lift  them 
Against  the  Roman  state ;  whose  course  will  on 
The  way  it  takes,  cracking  ten  thousand  curbs 
Of  more  strong  link  asunder,  than  can  ever 
Appear  in  your  impediment :  For  the  dearth, 
The  gods,  not  the  patricians,  make  it ;  and 
Your  knees  to  them,  not  arms,  must  help.     Alack, 
You  are  transported  by  calamity 
Thither  where  more  attends  you ;  and  you  slander 
The  helms  o'  the  state,  who  care  for  you  like  fathers, 
When  you  curse  them  as  enemies. 

1  CIT.  Care  for  us  !— True,  indeed !— They  ne'er  cared  for  us  yet.  Suffer 
us  to  famish,  and  their  storehouses  crammed  with  grain ;  make  edicts  for 
usury,  to  support  usurers ;  repeal  daily  any  wholesome  act  established  against 
the  rich ;  and  provide  more  piercing  statutes  daily,  to  chain  up  and  restrain 
the  poor.  If  the  wars  eat  us  not  up,  they  will ;  and  there's  all  the  love  they 
bear  us. 

*  *  * 

Enter  COEIOLANUS  [who  has  just  come  from  quelling  a  Lread  riot  in 
another  part  of  the  city\. 

COB.     Thanks. — What's  the  matter,  you  dissentious  rogues, 
That  rubbing  the  poor  itch  of  your  opinion, 
Make  yourselves  scabs  ? 

1  CIT.    We  have  ever  your  good  word. 

COB.     He  that  will  give  good  words  to  thee,  will  flatter 

Beneath  abhorring. — What  would  you  have,  you  curs, 
That  like  not  peace,  nor  war  ?     The  one  affrights  you, 
The  other  makes  you  proud.     He  that  trusts  you, 
Where  he  should  find  you  lions, finds  you  hares; 
Where  foxes,  geese :  You  are  no  surer,  no, 
Than  is  the  coal  of  fire  upon  the  ice, 
Or  hailstone  in  the  sun.     Your  virtue  is, 
To  make  him  worthy,  whose  offence  subdues  him, 
And  curse  that  justice  did  it.     Who  deserves  greatness 


"  Coriolanus;"  297 

Deserves  your  hate :  and  your  affections  are 

A  sick  man's  appetite,  who  desires  most  that 

Which  would  increase  his  evil.     He  that  depends 

Upon  your  favours,  swims  with  fins  of  lead, 

And  hews  down  oaks  with  rushes.     Hang  ye !     Trust  ye  ? 

With  every  minute  you  do  change  a  mind ; 

And  call  him  noble,  that  was  now  your  hate, 

Him  vile,  that  was  your  garland.     What's  the  matter, 

That  in  these  several  places  of  the  city 

You  cry  against  the  noble  senate,  who, 

Under  the  gods,  Tceep  you  in  awe,  which  else 

Would  feed  on  one  another  ? — What's  their  seeking  ? 

MEN.       For  corn  at  their  own  rates ;  whereof,  they  say, 
The  city  is  well  stored. 

COE.  Hang  'em  1     They  say ! 

They'll  sit  by  the  fire,*  and  presume  to  know 
What's  done  in  the  Capitol :  who's  like  to  rise, 
Who  thrives,  and  who  declines  :  side  factions,  and  give  out 
Conjectural  marriages ;  making  parties  strong, 
And  feebling  such  as  stand  not  in  their  liking, 
Below  their  cobbled  shoes.     They  say,  there's  grain  enough  ? 
Would  the  nobility  lay  aside  their  ruth, 
And  let  me  use  my  sword,  I'd  make  a  quarry 
With  thousands  of  these  quarter'd  slaves,  as  high 
As  I  could  pick  my  lance. 

MEN.       Nay,  these  are  almost  thoroughly  persuaded  j 
For  though  abundantly  they  lack  discretion, 
"Yet  are  they  passing  cowardly.     But,  I  beseech  you, 
What  says  the  other  troop  ? 

COE.  They  are  dissolved  :  hang  'em  ! 

They  said,  they  were  an-hungry ;  sigh'd  forth  proverbs  ;— 

That,  hy.nger  broke  stone  walls  ;  that,  dogs  must  eat ; 

That,  meat  was  made  for  mouths :  that,  the  gods  sent  not 

Corn  for  the  rich  men  only  :— With  these  shreds 

They  vented  their  complainings  ;  which  being  answer'd, 

And  a  petition  granted  them,  a  strange  one 

(To  break  the  heart  of  generosity, 

And  make  bold  power  look  pale),  they  threw  their  caps 

As  they  would  hang  them  on  the  horns  o'  the  moon, 

Shouting  their  exultation. 

MEN.  What  is  granted  them  ? 


4  The  poor  have  no  fireplaces  in  Rome,  and  no  stoves,  except  for  cooking 
purposes,  and  these  are  supplied  only  with  charcoal.  The  climate  does  not 
require  it.  Could  Bacon,  who  had  travelled  in  Italy,  make  such  a  mistake  as 
this  ? 


298    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

COB.    Tive  tribunes  to  defend  their  vulgar  wisdoms, 

Of  their  own  choice  :  One's  Junius  Brutus, 

Sicinius  Yelutus,  and  I  know  not — 'Sdeath  ! 

The  rabble  should  have  first  unroof 'd  the  city, 

Ere  so  prevail' d  with  me;  it  will  in  time 

Win  upon  power,  and  throw  forth  greater  themes 

For -insurrection's  arguing. 
MEN.  This  is  strange. 

COE.     Go,  get  you  home,  you  fragments  ! 
Enter  a  Messenger. 
MESS.  Where's  Caius  Marcius  ? 
COE.  Here.    What's,  the  matter  ? 

MESS.  The  news  is,  sir,  the  Volsces  are  in  arms. 
COE.    I  am  glad  on't ;  then,  we  shall  have  means  to  vent 

Our  musty  superfluity. 

1  SENATOE  (to  the  citizens).  Hence  !     To  your  homes !  begone ! 
COE.  Nay,  let  them  follow. 

The  Volsces  have  much  corn  :  take  these  rats  thither 

To  gnaw  their  garners. — Worshipful  mutineers, 

Your  valour  puts  well  forth  :  pray,  follow. 
Exeunt  SENATOES,  COBIOLANUS  and  followers.     The  citizens  steal  away. 

The  scene  now  changes  to  Corioli,  the  chief  city  of  the 
Volsci,  where  Tullus  Aufidius,  the  great  rival  of  Coriolanus, 
harangues  the  Volscian  Senate  in  favour  of  war  against  Rome. 
This  scene  is  followed  by  a  long  colloquy  between  Volumnia,  the 
arrogant  mother  of  Coriolanus,  and  Virgilia,  his  shrinking, 
gentle  wife,  about  his  personal  merits  and  the  prospects  of  the 
pending  strife.  The  audience  being  thus  prepared,  the  scene 
opens  before  Corioli,  where  Coriolanus,  with  his  forces,  stand 
drawn  up  for  battle,  in  advance  of  his  camp.  The  Volsces 
issue  from  the  city  and  make  the  assault,  and  after  some  fight- 
ing, the  Romans,  though  having  gained  some  temporary 
advances,  are  finally  beaten  back  to  their  trenches. 

COE.  All  the  contagion  of  the  south  light  on  you, 

You  shames  of  Rome  ! — you  herd  of — Boils  and  plagues 
Plaster  you  o'er ;  that  you  may  be  abhorred 
Further  than  seen,  and  one  infect  another 
Against  the  wind  a  mile !     You  souls  of  geese, 
That  bear  the  shapes  of  men,  how  have  you  run 
From  slaves  that  apes  would  beat  ?    Pluto  and  hell ! 
All  hurt  behind ;  backs  red,  and  faces  pale 
With  flight  and  agued  fear !     Mend,  and  charge  home, 
Or,  by  the  fires  of  heaven,  I'll  leave  the  foe, 


"  Coriolanus"  299 

And  make  my  wars  on  you :  look  to't :  Come  on ; 
If  you'll  stand  fast,  we'll  beat  them  to  their  wives, 
As  they  us  to  our  trenches  followed. 

Another  alarum.     The    Volsces  and  Romans  re-enter,  and  the  fight  is 
renewed.     The  Volsces  retire  into  Corioli,  and  MAECIUS  follows  them  to 


So,  now  the  gates  are  ope : — Now  prove  good  seconds : 
"Tis  for  the  followers  fortune  widens  them, 
Not  for  the  fliers :  mark  me,  and  do  the  like. 

[He  enters  the  gates,  and  is  shut  in. 

This  daring  example  inspires  the  Romans  to  fresh  efforts,  and 
they  force  the  gates,  overcome  the  Volsces,  and  capture  their 
city.  This  is  followed  by  a  scene  among  the  Roman  soldiers, 
after  having  sacked  the  town,  which  is  so  perfectly  in  keeping 
with  one  described  by  Russell,  of  the  capture  of  Sebastopol,  and 
by  several  American  army  correspondents  who  followed  the  line 
of  Sherman's  march,  that  it  seems  to  indicate  that  Shakespeare, 
who  never  attended  a  campaign,  had  an  instinctive  insight  into 
everything.  In  sketching  the  Roman  soldier,  he  really  described 
the  common  soldier  of  every  country,  and  of  all  time. 

Scene  5. — Within  the  Town.    A  Street. 
Enter  certain  Romans  with  spoils. 

1  ROM.  This  will  I  carry  to  Home. 

2  ROM.  And  I  this. 

3  ROM.  A  murrain  on't !  I  took  this  for  silver. 

[Alarum  continues  still  afar  off. 

Enter  COEIOLANUS  and  TITUS  LARTIUS  with  a  trumpet. 
COB.  See  here  these  movers,  that  do  prize  their  hours, 
At  a  crack'd  drachm !     Cushions,  leaden  spoons, 
Irons  of  a  doit,  doublets  that  hangmen  would 
Bury  with  those  that  wore  them,  these  base  slaves, 
Ere  yet  the  fight  be  done,  pack  up  : — Down  with  them. 

Scene  6. — Near  the  Roman  Camp  o/'CoMiNius. 

Enter  COEIOLANUS,  bloody. 
COB.  Come  I  too  late? 

COM.  Ay,  if  you  come  not  in  the  blood  of  others, 
But  mantled  in  your  own. 

*  *  * 

Where  is  that  slave, 

Which  told  me  they  had  beat  you  to  your  trenches  ? 
Where  is  he  ?    Call  him  hither. 
COB.  Let  him  alone, 

He  did  inform  the  truth ;  but  for  our  gentlemen, 


3OO    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

The  common  file,— (A  plague  !     Tribunes  for  them  ?) 
The  mouse  ne'er  shunnd  the  cat,  as  they  did  budge 
From  rascals  worse  than  they. 

In  the  second  act  Caius  Marcius  is  invested  with  the  hono- 
rary title  of  "  Coriolanus  "  (which,  for  convenience,  I  have  already 
used),  and  is  brought  forward  by  the  Senate  and  patricians  as 
their  candidate  for  Consul.  The  process  of  running-  for  that 
office  required  the  candidate  to  appear  publicly  in  the  market- 
place, clad  in  "  a  garment  of  humility "  made  of  coarse  stuff, 
and  to  meekly  solicit,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Tribunes,  the 
suffrages  of  The  People.  The  Tribunes  of  The  People,  conse- 
quently, though  necessarily  plebeians,  were  men  of  great  power 
and  prestige,  for  they  could  wield  the  masses  so  as  to  either 
secure  or  defeat  an  aristocrat's  election  j  while  The  People  them- 
selves, who  so  abjectly  cringed  under  innumerable  strokes  of 
degradation,  still  insisted  upon  having  their  candidates  come 
humbly  to  the  market-place,  and  wear  the  livery  of  application. 
The  masses,  however,  were  always  easily  controlled  by  the 
Tribunes.  As  an  evidence  of  the  power  of  the  Tribunal  office,  it 
is  only  necessary  to  refer  to  the  fact  that,  in  Julius  Cesar's  time, 
Clodius  (the  violator  of  the  sacred  mysteries  of  the  Bona  Dea), 
one  of  the  most  noble  of  the  old  patrician  families,  and  who,  at 
the  same  time,  was  possessed  of  vast  wealth  as  well  as  family 
influence,  chose,  by  way  of  revenging  himself  on  Cicero,  to  re- 
pudiate his  own  aristocratic  birth  and  honours,  and  to  resign  his 
power  and  prestige  as  a  Senator,  in  order  to  be  elected  a  Tribune 
of  The  People.  By  dint  of  incessant  efforts,  and  by  distributing 
his  immense  means  with  an  unsparing  hand,  he  accomplished  his 
object,  and  having  enticed  the  plebeians  under  his  profitable  and 
tumultuous  banner,  succeeded  in  driving  the  influential  and  in- 
comparable orator  into  exile.* 

As  to  the  dress  worn  by  the  applicants  for  the  consulship,  we 
get  a  clear  and  satisfactory  idea  from  Plutarch,  who  says, — 

tc  It  was  the  custom  for  those  who  were  candidates  for  such  a 
high  office  to  solicit  and  caress  the  people  in  the  forum,  and,  at 
those  times,  to  be  clad  in  a  loose  gown  without  the  tunic; 
whether  that  humble  dress  was  thought  more  suitable  for  suppli- 
ants, or  whether  it  was  for  the  convenience  of  showing  their  wounds, 
as  so  many  tokens  of  valour.  For  it  was  not  from  any  suspicion 

6  "  Life  of  Marcus  Julius  Cicero,"  by  William  Forsyth  (London  :  John 
Murray,  18G9),  pp.  155,  175,  176. 


"  Coriolanus.9*  301 

the  citizens  then  had  of  bribery,  that  they  required  the  candi- 
dates to  appear  before  them  ungirt,  and  without  any  close  gar- 
ment, when  they  came  to  beg  their  votes ;  since  it  was  much 
later  than  this,  and  indeed  many  ages  after,  that  buying  and 
selling  stole  in,  and  money  came  to  be  the  means  of  gaining  an 
election.  Then,  corruption  reaching  also  the  tribunals  and  the 
camps,  arms  were  subdued  by  money,  and  the  commonwealth 
was  changed  into  a  monarchy/'' ( 

This,  though  written  of  a  period  four  hundred  and  eighty- 
eight  years  before  the  Christian  era,  furnishes  a  suggestive  lesson 
to  Americans  to-day. 

In  the  first  scene  of  the  second  act,  we  find  what  is  re- 
garded as  the  best  recommendation  of  Coriolanus  for  his  civic 
candidature : — 

MENENTUS.  Marcius  is  coming  home — Where  is  he  wounded  ? 
VOLUMNIA  [the  mother  of  CORIOLANUS].  I'  the  shoulder,  and  i*  the  left 
arm:    There  will  be   large  cicatrices   to   show  the  people,  when   he   shall 
stand  for  his  place.     He  received  in  the  repulse  of  Tarquin,  seven  hurts 
i'  the  body. 

MEN.  One  in  the  neck,  and  two  in  the  thigh, — there's  nine  that  I  know. 
VOL.  He  had,  before  this  last  expedition,  twenty-five  wounds  upon  him. 
MEN.  Now  it's  twenty-seven;  every  gash  was  an  enemy's  grave.  [A  shout 
and  flour  ish.~\     Hark  !  the  trumpets. 

VOL.     These  are  the  ushers  of  Marcius  :  before  him 

He  carries  noise,  and  behind  him  he  leaves  tears ; 
Death,  that  dark  spirit,  in  's  nervy  arm  doth  lie ; 
Which  being  advanced,  declines :  and  then  men  die. 

Coriolanus  at  this  point  enters,  receives  his  triumph,  and 
then,  exhibiting  some  impatience  at  the  popular  acclaim,  remarks 
restively  that 

The  good  patricians  must  be  visited, 

and  passes  on,  amid  the  sound  of  trumpets  and  the  acclamations 
of  the  multitude,  to  the  capitol.  Thereupon  Brutus  (not  the 
Brutus  of  Csesar's  time),  and  Sicinius,  the  Tribunes  of  The  People, 
deliver  themselves  as  follows  : — 

BEU.      All  tongues  speak  of  him,  and  the  bleared  sights 
Are  spectacled  to  see  him ;  your  prattling  nurse 
Into  a  rupture  lets  her  baby  cry, 
While  she  chats  him ;  the  kitchen  malkin  pins 
Her  richest  lockram  'bout  her  reechy  neck, 

6  Langhorne's  "  Plutarch  "  (Harper  and  Brothers,  1874),  p.  169. 


302    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Clambering  the  walls  to  eye  him  :  Stalls,  bulks,  windows, 

Are  smother'd  up,  leads  fill'd,  and  ridges  horsed 

With  variable  complexions ;  all  agreeing 

In  earnestness  to  see  him :  seld-shown  flamens 

Do  press  among  .the  popular  throngs,  and  puff 

To  win  a  vulgar  station :  our  veii'd  dames 

Commit  the  war  of  white  and  damask,  in 

Their  nicely- gauded  cheeks,  to  the  wanton  spoil 

Of  Phoebus'  burning  kisses :  such  a  pother, 

As  if  that  whatsoever  god,  who  leads  him, 

Were  slily  crept  into  his  human  powers, 

And  gave  him  graceful  posture. 
Sic.  On  the  sudden, 

I  warrant  him  consul. 
BETJ.  Then  our  office  may, 

During  his  power  go  sleep. 

»  *  • 

I  heard  him  swear, 

Were  he  to  stand  for  consul,  never  would  he 

Appear  i'  the  market-place,  nor  on  him  put 

The  napless  vesture  of  humility ; 

Nor,  showing  (as  the  manner  is)  his  wounds 

To  the  people,  leg  their  stinking  breaths. 

•  *  • 

Sic.  I  wish  no  better, 

Than  to  have  him  hold  that  purpose,  and  to  put  it 
In  execution. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

BEU.  What's  the  matter? 

MESS.     You  are  sent  for  to  the  Capitol.     'Tis  thought 
That  Marcius  shall  be  consul :  I  have  seen 
The  dumb  men  throng  to  see  him,  and  the  blind 
To  hear  him  speak  :  The  matrons  flung  their  gloves, 
Ladies  and  maids  their  scarfs  and  handkerchiefs, 
Upon  him  as  he  pass'd ;  the  nobles  bended, 
As  to  Jove's  statue  ;  and  the  commons  made 
A  shower,  and  thunder,  with  their  caps,  and  shouts : 
I  never  saw  the  like. 

BEU.  Let's  to  the  Capitol, 

And  carry  with  us  ears  and  eyes  for  the  time, 
But  hearts  for  the  event. 

Scene  2.— The  Capitol 
Enter  two  Officers,  to  lay  cushions. 

1  OFFICES.  Come,  come,  they  are  almost  here :  How  many  stand  for  con- 
sulships ?' 

2  OFF.  Three,  they  say :  but  'tis  thought  of  every  one,  Coriolauus  will 
carry  it. 


"  Coriolanus"  303 

1  OFF.  That's  a  brave  fellow ;  but  he's  vengeance  proud,  and  loves  not  the 
common  people.  .  .  .  If  he  did  not  care  whether  he  had  their 
love,  or  no,  he  waved  indifferently  'twixt  doing  them  neither  good,  nor 
harm ;  but  he  seeks  their  hate  with  greater  devotion  than  they  can  render  it 
him ;  and  leaves  nothing  undone,  that  may  fully  discover  him  their  opposite. 
Now,  to  seem  to  affect  the  malice  and  displeasure  of  the  people,  is  as  bad  as 
that  which  he  dislikes,  to  flatter  them  for  their  love. 

Coriolanus  then  comes  in,  but  the  flattery  which  is  lavished 
upon  him  displeases  his  disdainful  nature  to  such  an  extent  that 
he  retires,  under  the  apparent  pressure  of  a  wounded  modesty  : — 

COE.      I  had  rather  have  one  scratch  my  head  i'  the  sun, 

When  the  alarum  were  struck,  than  idly  sit 

To  hear  my  nothings  monstered.  [Exit. 

MEN.  Masters  of  the  people, 

Your  multiplying  spawn  how  can  Tie  flatter 

(That's  thousand  to  one  good  one),  when  you  now  see, 

He  had  rather  venture  all  his  limbs  for  honour, 

Than  one  on  's  ears  to  hear  it  ? — Proceed,  Cominius. 
COM.       I  shall  lack  voice  :  the  deeds  of  Coriolanus 

Should  not  be  utter'd  feebly. — It  is  held, 

That  valour  is  the  chiefest  virtue,  and 

Most  dignifies  the  haver :  if  it  be, 

The  man  I  speak  of  cannot  in  the  world 

Be  singly  counterpoised. 

*  *  * 

Before  and  in  Corioli,  let  me  say, 

I  cannot  speak  him  home :  he  stopp'd  the  fliers ; 

And  by  his  rare  example  made  the  coward^ 

Turn  terror  into  sport.    As  weeds  before 

A  vessel  under  sail,  so  men  obey'd, 

And  fell  below  his  stem.     His  sword,  death's  stamp, 

Where  it  did  mark,  it  took.     From  face  to  foot 

He  was  a  thing  of  blood,  whose  every  motion 

Was  tuned  with  dying  cries.    Alone  he  enter'd 

The  mortal  gate  of  the  city,  which  he  painted 

With  shunless  destiny,  aidless  came  off, 

And  with  a  sudden  reinforcement  struck 

Corioli  like  a  planet. 

*  *  * 

COM.  Our  spoils  he  kick'd  at 

And  look'd  upon  things  precious,  as  they  were 
The  common  muck  o'  the  world ;  he  covets  less 
Than  misery  itself  would  give ;  rewards 
His  deeds  with  doing  them ;  and  is  content 
To  spend  the  time  to  end  it. 

*  *  * 


304    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Re-enter  COEIOLANUS. 
MEN.   The  Senate,  Coriolanus,  are  well  pleased 

To  make  thee  consul. 
COE.  I  do  owe  them  still 

My  life,  and  services. 
MEN.  It  then  remains, 

That  you  do  speak  to  the  people. 
COE.  I  do  beseech  you, 

Let  me  o'erleap  that  custom ;  for  I  cannot 

Put  on  the  gown,  stand  naked,  and  entreat  them, 

For  my  wounds'  sake,  to  give  their  suffrage.     Please  you, 

That  I  may  pass  this  doing. 
Sic.  Sir,  the  people 

Must  have  their  voices ;  neither  will  they  bate 

One  jot  of  ceremony. 
COE.  It  is  a  part 

That  I  shall  blush  in  acting,  and  might  ivell 

Be  taJcen  from  the  people. 

BRU.  Mark  you  that  ?  [To  SICINIUS. 

COE.     To  brag  unto  them — thus  I  did,  and  thus — 

Show  them  th'  unaching  scars  which  I  should  hide, 

As  if  I  had  received  them  for  the  hire 

Of  their  breath  only. 

*  *  * 

BETJ.    You  see  how  he  intends  to  use  the  people. 

Sic.      May  they  perceive  7s  intent !     He  will  require  them, 

As  if  he  did  contemn  what  he  requested 

Should  be  in  them  to  give. 
BEU.  Come  ;  we'll  inform  them 

Of  our  proceedings  here :  on  the  market-place.  [Exeunt. 

Act  II.  Scene  3. — The  Market-place.     Citizens  assembled. 
Enter  COEIOLANUS  and  MENENIUS. 

3  CITIZEN.  Here  he  comes,  and  in  the  gown  of  humility ;  mark  his  beha- 
viour. We  are  not  to  stay  all  together,  but  to  come  by  him  where  he  stands, 
by  ones,  by  twos,  and  by  threes.  He's  to  make  his  requests  by  particulars : 
wherein  every  one  of  us  has  a  single  honour,  in  giving  him  our  own  voices 
with  our  own  tongues ;  therefore  follow  me,  and  I'll  direct  you  how  you  shall 
go  by  him. 

ALL.  Content,  content.  [Exeunt. 

MEN.  O  sir,  you  are  not  right :  have  you  not  known 

The  worthiest  men  have  done't  ? 

COE.  What  must  I  say  ? 

I  pray  sir, — Plague  upon't !  I  cannot  bring 
My  tongue  to  such  a  pace. 


"  Coriolanus"  305 

MEN.  You'll  mar  all ; 

I'll  leave  yon :  Pray  you,  speak  to  them,  I  pray  you 

In  wholesale  manner. 
COE.  Bid  them  wash  their  faces, 

And  keep  their  teeth  clean. 

The  haughty  candidate  then,  under  the  pressure  of  Menenius, 
makes  a  satirical  application  to  the  people  for  their  suffrages, 
which  is  so  evidently  insincere — nay,  so  contemptuous — that  the 
citizens  detect  its  tone.  Nevertheless,  under  the  awe  of  his  pre- 
sence, they  give  him  their  voices ;  whereupon,  stripping  himself 
rapidly  and  impatiently  of  his  suppliant  robes,  he  passes  to 
the  Senate-house  to  receive  the  more  congenial  aristocratic 
honours. 

Upon  further  reflection,  however,  the  citizens  perceive  he  has 
only  deceived  and  mocked  them ;  so  at  the  instigation  of  the 
tribunes,  who  suggest  he  has  not  yet  been  confirmed,  they  re- 
solve he  shall  reappear  in  the  market-place,  and  be  obliged  to 
undergo  an  honest  ordeal. 

The  third  act  opens  under  this  state  of  things ;  but  "  Corio- 
lanus/" having  got  along  more  easily  with  the  Senate,  appears 
as  Consul,  and,  in  that  capacity,  receives  the  news  that  the 
Volsces  have  again  broken  out  in  war.  In  the  midst  of  this 
discussion,  the  tribunes  Sicinius  and  Brutus  enter,  fresh  from 
the  discontented  people. 

COR.     Behold !  these  are  the  tribunes  of  the  people. 

The  tongues  o  the  common  mouth.     I  do  despise  them  ; 
For  they  do  prank  them  in  authority, 
Against  &11  nolle  sufferance. 

The  tribunes,  nevertheless,  insist  he  shall  again  go  to  the 
market-place  and  apologize  to  The  People. 

COE.  Are  these  your  herd  ? 

Must  these  have  voices,  that  can  yield  them  now, 

And  straight  disclaim  their  tongues  ?     What  are  your  offices  ? 

You  being  their  mouths,  why  rule  you  not  their  teeth  ? 

Have  you  not  set  them  on  ? 

MEN.  Be  calm,  he  calm. 

COE.  It  is  a  purposed  thing,  and  grows  by  plot, 

To  curb  the  will  of  the  nobility  : 

Suffer  it,  and  live  with  such  as  cannot  rulo, 

Nor  ever  will  be  ruled. 
BEU,  Call't  not  a  plot : 

The  people  cry,  you  mock'd  them  ;  and,  of  late, 


306    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

When  corn  was  given  them  gratis,  you  repined ; 
Scandal'd  the  suppliants  for  the  people ;  call'd  them 
Time-pleasers,  flatterers,  foes  to  nobleness. 

#  #  * 

COE.  My  nobler  friends, 

I  crave  their  pardons : 

For  the  mutable,  rank-scented  many,  let  them 
Regard  me  as  T  do  not  flatter,  and 
Therein  behold  themselves  :  I  say  again, 
In  soothing  them,  we  nourish  'gainst  our  Senate 
The  cockle  of  rebellion,  insolence,  sedition, 
Which  we  ourselves  have  plough'd  for,  sow'd  and  scatter'd, 
By  mingling  them  with  us,  the  honour 'd  number ; 
Who  lack  not  virtue,  no,  nor  power,  but  that 
Which  they  have  given  to  beggars. 

*  *     ,  * 

BETJ.  You  speak  o  the  people 

As  if  you  were  a  god  to  punish,  not 

A  man  of  their  infirmity. 
Sic.  Twere  well, 

We  let  the  people  know't. 

MEN.  What,  what !  his  choler  ! 

COE.    Choler ! 

Were  I  as  patient  as  the  midnight  sleep, 

By  Jove,  'twould  be  my  mind. 
Sic.  It  is  a  mind, 

That  shall  remain  a  poison  where  it  is, 

Not  poison  any  further. 
COE.  Shall  remain  ! — 

Hear  you  this  Triton  of  the  minnows  ?  mark  yon 

His  absolute  shall  ? 

*  *  * 

BRU.  He  has  said  enough. 

Sic.      He  has  spoken  like  a  traitor,  and  shall  answer 

As  traitors  do. 
COE.    Thou  wretch !  despite  o'erwhelm  thee  ! — 

What  should  the  people  do  with  these  bald  tribunes  ? 

On  whom  depending,  their  obedience  fails 

To  the  greater  bench :  In  a  rebellion, 

Then  what's  not  meet,  but  what  must  be,  was  law, 

Then  were  they  chosen ;  in  a  better  hour, 

Let  what  is  meet,  be  said,  it  must  be  meet, 

And  throw  their  power  i'  the  dust. 
BEU.    Manifest  treason. 
Sic.  This  a  consul  ?  no. 

BRU.    The  JEdiles,  ho ! — Let  him  be  apprehended. 
Sic.      Go,  call  the  people ;  [Exit  BRUTUS]  in  whose  name,  myself 


"  Coriolanus**  307 

Attach  thee,  as  a  traitorous  innovator, 

A  foe  to  the  public  weal :  Obey,  I  charge  thee, 

And  follow  to  thine  answer. 

Coriolanus  draws  his  sword ;  a  tumult  follows,  in  which  the 
people  are  driven  in. 

COMINIUS  (to  CORIOLANUS).  Will  you  hence, 

Before  the  tag  return  ?  whose  rage  doth  rend 
Like  interrupted  waters,  and  o'erbear 
What  they  are  used  to  bear. 

MEN.  Pray  you,  be  gone  : 

I'll  try  whether  my  old  wit  be  in  request 
With  those  that  have  but  little ;  this  must  be  patch 'd 
With  cloth  of  any  colour. 

COM.  Nay,  come  away. 

\JExeunt  COEIOLANUS,  COMINITJS,  and  others. 

1  PAT.     This  man  has  marrM  his  fortune. 

*  *  * 

Re-enter  BRUTUS  and  SICINIUS,  with  the  rabble. 
Sic.  Where  is  this  viper, 

That  would  depopulate  the  city, 

Be  every  man  himself? 

MEN.  You  worthy  tribunes, — 

Sic.  He  shall  be  thrown  down  the  Tarpeian  rock 

With  rigorous  hands  ;  he  hath  resisted  law, 

And  therefore  law  shall  scorn  him  further  trial 

Than  the  severity  of  the  public  power, 

Which  he  so  sets  at  nought. 

*  *  * 

BRU.  We'll  hear  no  more  : — 

Pursue  him  to  his  house,  and  pluck  him  thence ; 

Lest  his  infection,  being  of  catching  nature, 

Spread  further. 

Scene  2. — A  Room  in  CORIOLANUS'  House. 

Enter  CORIOLANUS  and  Patricians. 
COR.         Let  them  pull  all  about  mine  ears ;  present  me 

Death  on  the  wheel,  or  at  wild  horses'  heels ; 

Or  pile  ten  hills  on  the  Tarpeian  rock, 

That  the  precipitation  might  down  stretch 

Below  the  beam  of  sight,  yet  will  I  still 

Be  thus  to  them. 

Enter  VOLUMNIA. 

1  PAT.  You  do  the  nobler. 

COR.         I  muse,  my  mother 

Does  not  approve  me  further,  who  was  wont  - 

To  call  them  woollen  vassals,  things  created 


308    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

To  buy  and  sell  with  groats ;  to  show  bare  heads 

In  congregations,  to  yawn,  be  still,  and  wonder, 

When  one  but  of  my  ordinance  stood  up 

To  speak  of  peace,  or  war.     I  talk  of  you  ;  \To  VOLUH. 

Why  did  you  wish  me  milder  ?     Would  you  have  me 

False  to  my  nature  ?     Rather  say,  I  play 

The  man  I  am. 

VOL.  0,  sir,  sir,  sir, 

I  would  have  had  you  put  your  power  well  on, 
Before  you  had  worn  it  out. 

COB.  Let  go. 

YOL.  You  might  have,  been  enough  the  man  you  are, 

With  striving  less  to  be  so :  lesser  had  been 
The  thwartings  of  your  dispositions,  if 
You  had  not  show'd  them  how  you  were  disposed, 
Ere  they  lack'd  power  to  cross  you. 

*  You  are  too  absolute ; 

Though  therein  you  can  never  be  too  noble, 
But  when  extremities  speak.     I  have  heard  you  say, 
Honour  and  policy,  like  unsever'd  friends, 
I'  the  war  do  grow  together  :  grant  that,  and  tell  me, 
In  peace  what  each  of  them  by  th'  other  lose, 
That  they  combine  not  there  ? 

I  pr'ythee  now,  my  son, 
Go  to  them,  with  this  bonnet  in  thy  hand ; 
And  thus  far  having  stretch'd  it  (here  be  with  them,) 
Thy  knee  bussing  the  stones  (for  in  such  business 
Action  is  eloquence,  and  the  eyes  of  the  ignorant, 
More  learned  than  their  ears),  waving  thy  head, 
Which  often,  thus,  correcting  thy  stout  heart, 
That  humble,  as  the  ripest  mulberry, 
Now  will  not  hold  the  handling :  Or,  say  to  them, 
Thou  art  their  soldier,  and  being  bred  in  broils, 
Hast  not  the  soft  way,  which,  thou  dost  confess, 
Were  fit  for  thee  to  use,  as  they  to  claim, 
In  asking  their  good  loves ;  but  tJiou  wilt  frame 
Thyself,  for  sooth,  hereafter  theirs,  so  far 
As  thou  hast  power,  and  person. 

Here  is  a  repetition  of  the  same  royal  principle  of  perfidy- 
practised  by  Prince  John  of  Lancaster  (with  the  approbation  of 
our  author),  against  the  army  of  the  Archbishop  of  York,  Mow- 
bray,  and  Hastings,  in  the  Second  Part  of  "  King  Henry  IV.; " 
the  Prince  putting  the  forces  of  these  leaders  mercilessly  to  the 
sword,  after  having  persuaded  them  to  lay  down  their  arms  upon 
terms,  and  a  full  pardon,  secured  by  his  princely  honour  : — a  like 
perfidy  to  that  perpetrated  against  the  forces  of  Wat  Tyler  and 


"  Coriolanus."  309 

Jack  Cade  (also  with  the  approbation  of  the  poet)  after  they  had 
been  induced  to  disband,  on  the  most  solemn  promises  of  amnesty 
from  the  King. 

The  haughty  office-seeker,  Coriolanus,  at  length  pursues  his 
mother's  perfidious  advice,  but  his  arrogant,  unbridled  nature 
giving  way  under  it,  he  again  rails  at  the  people,  who,  unable  to 
endure  his  insolence  any  longer,  mercifully  banish  him.  He  then 
thus  curses  and  takes  leave  of  them : — 

COR.  You  common  cry  of  curs !  whose  breath  I  hate 
As  reek  o'  the  rotten  fens,  whose  loves  I  prize 
As  the  dead  carcases  of  unburied  men 
That  do  corrupt  my  air,  I  banish  you. 

Thereupon,  he  at  once  goes  over  to  the  Volscians,  betrays  to 
them  the  secrets  of  his  country,  and,  out  of  mere  personal  spite 
and  revenge,  leads  the  armies  of  the  enemy  against  Rome,  in 
which  estimable  attitude  he  is  always  vociferously  applauded  by 
American  audiences. 

His  arms  are  successful,  and  he  is  only  dissuaded  from  putting 
his  native  city  to  the  sword,  by  the  intercession  of  his  mother, 
wife,  and  child. 

For  thus  disappointing  the  Yolscians  of  their  expected  spoil, 
however,  he  is  conspired  against  by  their  leaders,  and  slain.  The 
worst  feature  of  the  play  is,  so  far  as  Shakespeare  is  concerned, 
that  the  patriotic  Roman  citizens  who  had  justly  banished  him 
for  his  treasons  to  The  People,  are  made  to  tremble  with  cowardice 
at  finding  him  return  as  an  invader ;  and  in  that  state  of  wretched 
fear,  to  confess  that  they  did  him  wrong,  in  resenting  his 
encroachments  on  their  liberties. 

Act  IV.  Scene  6. 

MEN,  (to  the  Tribunes).         You  have  made  good  work, 

You,  and  your  apron  men  ;  you  that  stood  so  much 

Upon  the  voice  of  occupation,  and 

The  breath  of  garlic-eaters  ! 
COM.  He  will  shake 

Your  Eome  about  your  ears. 

Enter  a  Troop  of  Citizens. 

MEN.  Here  comes  the  clusters — 

And  is  Aufidius  with  him  !— You  are  they 
That  made  the  air  unwholesome,  when  you  cast 
Your  stinking,  greasy  caps,  in  hooting  at 
Coriolanus'  exile.    Now,  he's  coming ; 
21 


3io    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

And  not  a  hair  upon  a  soldier's  head, 
Which  will  not  prove  a  whip ;  as  many  coxcomhs, 
As  you  threw  caps  up,  will  he  tumble  down, 
And  pay  you  for  your  voices.     Tis  no  matter ; 
If  he  could  burn  us  all  into  one  coal, 
We  have  deserved  it. 
CIT.          'Faith,  we  hear  fearful  news. 

1  CIT.  For  mine  own  Par^ 

When  I  said,  banish  him,  I  said,  'twas  pity. 

2  CIT.      And  so  did  I. 

3  CIT.  And  so  did  I ;  and,  to  say  the  truth,  so  did  very  many  of  us  : 
That  we  did,  we  did  for  the  best ;  and  that  though  we  willingly  consented  to 
his  banishment,  yet  it  was  against  our  will. 

COM.     You  are  goodly  tilings,  you  voices  ! 

MEN.   You  have  made  good  work,  you  and  your  cry  ! 

It  may  be  urged,  in  partial  relief  of  the  hard  and  revengeful 
nature  of  Coriolanus,  that  he  finally  spared  Rome  at  the  appeal 
of  his  mother;  but  it  will  be  seen  that  he  was  moved  rather  by 
a  selfish  dread  of  everlasting  infamy,  than  by  her  appeals,  or  any 
better  motive. 

VOLUMNIA.  Thou  know'st,  great  son, 

The  end  of  war's  uncertain  ;  but  this  certain, 
That,  if  thou  conquer  Borne,  the  benefit 
Which  thou  shalt  thereby  reap  is  such  a  name, 
Whose  repetition  will  be  dogg'd  with  curses  : 
Whose  chronicle  thus  writ, — The  man  was  noble, 
But  with  Ms  last  attempt  he  wiped  it  out; 
Destroy' d  his  country  ;  and  his  name  remains 
To  the  ensuing  time,  dbhorrd. 

Just  previous  to  this  we  had  heard  him  say  to  Aufidius,  the 
Volscian  General : — 

For  I  will  fight 

Against  my  canker'd  country  with  the  spleen 
Of  all  the  under  fiends. 

And,  right  afterward,  again  to  the  Volscian  commander  : — 

I'll  not  to  Rome,  I'll  back  with  you ;  and  pray  you, 

Stand  me  in  this  cause.    [Pointing  to  his  mother  and  his  wife.'] 

There  certainly  could  have  been  no  better  destiny  in  reserve 
for  this  bad  man,  than  to  be  hacked  to  death,  as  he  was,  by  the 
swords  of  those  for  whom  he  had  betrayed  his  country. 

There  may  be  some  to  ask  mercy  for  his  memory,  because  of 
his  bravery  in  battle ;  but  that  was  a  mere  gladiatorial  instinct ; 
and  others  may  palliate  his  brutal  nature  by  reference  to  the 


"  Coriolanus"  311 

savage  teachings  of  his  dam,  who  more  than  matched  his  vulgar 
curse  of — 

COE.  The  fires  of  the  lowest  hell  fold  in  the  people ! 
with — 

VOL.  Now,  the  red  pestilence  strike  all  the  trades  in  Rome  ! 
This  sort  of  teaching,  it  is  true,  accounts  for  much  of  his  per- 
verted disposition,  but  it  does  not  make  bad  deeds  good,  nor 
justify  his  enthroning  in  his  heart  the  selfish  passion  of  personal 
revenge  above  all  the  natural  impulses,  all  the  obligations  of 
patriotism,  all  the  duties  of  friendship,  and  even  the  ties  of 
nature.  Nor  does  it  warrant — 

COEIOLANUS.  Do  not  bid  me 

Dismiss  my  soldiers,  or  capitulate 
Again  with  Rome's  mechanics  ! 

In  this  play,  and  in  its  encouragement  of  the  aristocratic 
characteristics  of  Coriolanus,  presenting  them  always,  as  the 
author  does,  for  the  auditor's  applause,  the  Baconians  may  find  a 
plausible  argument  towards  their  theory ;  for  I  must  once  more 
repeat,  it  seems  incredible  that  William  Shakespeare,  who  was 
born  among  the  working  classes — his  father  having  been  a  dealer 
in  wool,  and,  for  a  time,  a  trader  in  butchers''  meat — should 
speak  with  such  invariable  and  bitter  scorn  of  mechanics, 
labourers,  and  tradesmen,  especially  in  deriding  the  latter  with 
his  favourite  epithet  of  "woolen  slaves"7  as  the  token  of  his 
most  extreme  contempt.  From  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  such  scorn  of 
trade  and  labour  would  not  have  been  noticeably  strange ;  but, 
even  from  him,  we  find  it  puzzling  that  such  contempt  for  the 
producing  classes — who,  certainly,  are  the  source  of  all  the 
luxuries  of  the  rich — should  have  reached  the  point  of  loathing. 
But,  whether  the  author  of  these  plays  was  Sir  Francis  Bacon  or  . 
William  Shakespeare,  we  always  find  him  treating  the  working 
man,  whether  of  England,  France,  Italy,  Bohemia,  or  Fairy 

7  This  epithet,  and  Shakespeare's  frequent  allusions  to  the  "  greasy  caps  " 
and  "  woolen  caps  "  of  the  multitude,  doubtless  had  reference  to  the  habit  of 
dress  imposed  upon  the  lower  classes  in  England,  by  Act  of  Parliament,  in 
the  fifteenth  century,  to  wear  woolen  caps  of  a  specified  pattern,  so  that  they 
might  not  be  able  to  confound  themselves,  under  any  circumstances,  with  the 
gentry.  Rosalind,  in  "  Love's  Labour's  Lost,"  alludes  to  this  practice  in  the 
satirical  line,  "  Well,  better  wits  have  worn  plain  statute  caps."  The  Roman 
mechanics  and  lower  classes  also  wore  caps.  The  patricians  and  higher  classes 
went  with  the  head  uncovered. — G.  W. 


3 1 2    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Land,  with  unvarying  detestation.  If  Lord  Bacon  was  the 
author  of  the  Shakespeare  plays,  the  least  we  can  say  of  him  in 
this  connexion  is,  that  he  was  a  hard,  arrogant,  proud-hearted, 
ungenerous,  and  brutal  noble;  if  William  Shakespeare,  the 
wool-dealer's  son,  then  he  was  a  base,  cringing  parasite,  devoid 
of  all  the  estimable  sympathies  of  parentage  and  class,  and  the 
veriest  pander  of  all  poets,  to  the  really  inferior  conditions  of 
wealth  and  worldly  station.  He  has  taken  the  god  which  was 
born  in  his  bosom  for  noble  purposes,  subjugated  it  to  his  animal 
supremacy,  and  thrust  its  celestial  head  under  the  mire.  He 
cannot  be  excused  on  the  score  of  the  habits  and  prejudices  of 
his  period.  Mortals  of  all  times,  who  have  been  commissioned 
with  poetic  fire,  have  held  it  in  noble  trust,  for  the  elevation  of 
the  people,  but  Shakespeare  seems  to  have  employed  his  genius 
mainly  to  tread  upon  the  unfortunate  of  the  human  race. 


LEGAL   ACQUIREMENTS    OF    SHAKESPEARE. 

"  In  this  drama,  in  which/'  says  Lord  Campbell,  "  we  should 
not  expect  to  find  any  allusion  to  English  juridical  proceedings, 
Shakespeare  shows  that  he  must  have  been  present  before  some 
tiresome,  testy,  choleric  judges  at  Stratford,  Warwick,  or  West- 
minster— whom  he  evidently  intends  to  depict  and  satirize — like 
my  distinguished  friend  Charles  Dickens,  in  his  famous  report 
of  the  trial  Bardel  v.  Pickwick,  before  Mr.  Justice  Starey,  for 
breach  of  promise  of  marriage.  Menenius  (Act  II.  Scene  1),  in 
reproaching  the  two  tribunes,  Sicinius  and  Brutus,  with  their 
own  offences,  which  they  forget  while  they  inveigh  against 
Coriolanus,  says, — 

You  wear  out  a  good  wholesome  forenoon  in  hearing  a  cause  between  an 
orange-wife  and  a  posset-seller,  and  then  re-journ  the  controversy  of  three 
pence  to  a  second  day  of  audience.  When  you  are  hearing  a  matter  between 
party  and  party,  if  you  chance  to  be  pinched  with  the  colic,  you  make  faces  • 
like  mummers,  set  up  the  bloody  flag  against  all  patience,  and  in  roaring  for 

a pot  dismiss  the  controversy  pleading  more  entangled  by  your  hearing  : 

all  the  peace  you  make  in  their  cause  is,  calling  both  the  parties  knaves. 

"  Shakespeare  here  mistakes  the  duties  of  the  Tribune  for  those 
of  the  Prtetor ;  but  in  truth  he  was  recollecting  with  disgust 
what  he  had  himself  witnessed  in  his  own  country.  Now-a-days 
all  English  judges  are  exemplary  for  despatch,  patience,  and  good 
temper  Ml" 


"  Titus  Andronicus" 


CHAPTER  XXXL 


THE  tragedies  of  " Titus  Andronicus"  and  of  " Pericles "  are 
usually  compiled  among  the  last  of  the  Shakespearian  dramas,  not 
that  they  are  esteemed  the  most  matured  and  worthy,  but  because 
it  has  been  seriously  doubted  whether  they  are  entitled  to  be 
classed  among  the  works  of  the  mind  which  produced  "  Hamlet," 
"  Othello/'  "  Macbeth/'  and  "  Lear."  Their  position  in  the  series, 
therefore,  instead  of  being  originally  one  of  honour,  was  rather 
one  of  suspicion,  which  shrewdly  allotted  to  them  the  last  place 
in  the  early  compilations,  in  order  that  they  might  be  handily 
"switched  off"  in  case  the  public  voice  should  decide  against 
them.  The  general  judgment,  however — stimulated,  no  doubt, 
to  some  extent,  by  the  desire  to  cling  to  everything  which  might 
have  come  from  Shakespeare — has  left  them  in  the  list  of  his 
collected  works.  Instead,  therefore,  of  being  ranked  among  the 
last  of  our  poet's  productions,  it  is  pretty  generally  agreed  they 
ought  to  appear  among  his  first.  Moreover,  it  is  largely  be- 
lieved among  critics  that  "  Titus  Andronicus  "  was  his  very  first 
play;  and  that  both  that  and  Pericles  were  only  his  work  in 
part.  My  idea  is  that,  when  Shakespeare,  emerging  from  his 
position  as  a  hanger-on  at  the  play-houses,  began  to  work  as  a 
producer  for  the  stage,  he  tried  his  hand  first  at  dramatic  adap- 
tation, and  finding  some  crude  and  unaccepted  plays  within  his 
reach,  he  chose  two  or  three  which  he  deemed  the  best,  and  built 
upon  them. 

" Titus  Andronicus"  and  " Pericles"  may,  therefore,  be  regarded 
as  two  youthful  and  inexperienced  productions,  partaking  of  all  the 
errors  of  the  school  in  which  they  had  been  formed,  and  which 
school  our  author's  prestige  and  practice  were  not  yet  great 
enough  to  overturn.  Flashes  of  power  and  strains  of  melody 
relieve,  with  frequency,  the  deformities  of  the  original  produc- 


314  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

tions,  and  as  the  striving  poet  breasted  these  vexed  tides,  guided 
alone  by  his  reliant  genius,  he  learned  his  masterful  and  all- 
commanding  stroke. 

The  trial  table  of  Furnival  declares  "  Titus  Andronicus  "  to  have 
been  an  old  play,  and  fixes  its  date  at  1588.  This  makes  it  the 
immediate  successor  of  the  poem  of  "  Venus  and  Adonis."  Sir 
Francis  Bacon,  however,  was  nearly  four  years  older  than  Shake- 
speare, and  what  might  have  been  forgiven  to  our  bard  at  the 
age  of  twenty-four,  would  hardly  have  been  excusable  in  Bacon 
at  twenty-eight ;  or,  indeed,  to  Shakespeare  either,  at  the  period 
of  life  when  he  wrote  "  Romeo  and  Juliet."  Moreover,  Bacon 
must  be  credited  with  having  achieved  a  greater  literary  maturity 
at  the  age  of  twenty-eight,  than  could  have  been  acquired  by 
Shakespeare  at  the  same  age,  either  from  the  latter's  oppor- 
tunities for  study,  or  against  the  distracting  obstacles  rising 
from  the  seething  ocean  of  London  lower  life. 

"  Titus  Andronicus "  is  an  improbable  and  voluntary  horror, 
conceived  originally  by  some  coarse  and  cruel  mind,  which  took 
a  perverted  pleasure  in  laving  itself  in  blood,  and  in  familiarizing 
its  auditors  with  a  yearning  for  atrocity  and  murder.  Titus,  a 
Roman  general,  who  combines  the  qualities  of  both  Brutus  and 
Virginius,  returns  to  Rome  after  a  brilliant  series  of  battles, 
conveying  with  him,  in  the  train  of  his  captives,  Tamora,  the 
Queen  of  the  Goths,  and  her  three  sons,  Alarbus,  Chiron,  and 
Demetrius.  Titus  has  been  the  father  of  twenty-five  sons 
himself,  twenty-one  of  whom  have  fallen  in  battle,  and  he  brings, 
on  this  occasion,  the  dead  body  of  the  last  of  these.  The  four 
remaining  sons  accompany  him  in  this  triumph,  and  are  by  his 
side.  One  of  these,  Lucius,  demands  that  "  the  proudest  prisoner 
of  the  Goths"  shall  be  hewed  to  pieces,  as  a  sacrifice  ad  manes 
fratrum  to  his  unburied  brother,  according  to  the  Roman  custom 
of  the  time ;  whereupon  Titus  yields  to  them  Tamora's  eldest 
son,  Alarbus,  for  that  purpose.  During  this  campaign,  the 
Emperor  of  Rome  had  died,  and  the  People,  in  gratitude  for  the 
services  of  Titus,  desire  to  invest  him  with  the  vacant  purple. 
The  aged  warrior,  however,  with  a  patriotic  forbearance,  rejects 
the  temptation  and  decides  in  favour  of  the  emperor's  eldest  son, 
Saturninus,  and,  at  the  same  time,  gives  him  the  hand  of 
Lavinia,  his  only  daughter  in  marriage.  Saturninus  accepts  both 
the  empire  and  the  girl,  whereupon  Bassianus,  the  emperor's 


"  Titus  Andronicus?  315 

second  son,  claims  Lavinia  as  liis  betrothed,  and,  drawing-  his 
sword,  bears  her  off  from  the  scene,  supported  by  three  of  the 
sons  of  Titus.  Mutius,  the  fourth  son,  also  takes  part  with 
Bassianus,  and  attempts  to  bar  the  way  of  Titus  from  LavimVs 
rescue.  Upon  this,  the  father,  in  a  fit  of  ungovernable  rage, 
kills  Mutius  on  the  spot,  and  then  demands  of  his  other  sons 
the  immediate  restoration  of  Lavinia  to  the  young  emperor. 
Saturninus,  however,  having  been  suddenly  smitten  with  the 
burning  beauty  of  Tamora,  rejects  Lavinia,  and  takes  the  Gothic 
queen  as  substitute, — a  choice  which  old  Titus,  still  governed  by 
his  loyalty,  sorrowfully  consents  to.  In  the  second  act,  Titus 
gives  a  grand  hunt  to  the  new  emperor  and  his  court,  during 
which  revelry  the  two  remaining  sons  of  Tamora,  at  the  instiga- 
tion of  Aaron,  a  Moor,  who  is  the  paramour  of  their  mother, 
murder  JBassianus,  and  seize  upon  the  person  of  Lavinia  for 
themselves.  .Tamora,  coming  in,  seconds  this  vile  advice,  and  in 
her  presence,  and  at  her  stimulation,  the  youths  stab  Bassianus, 
and  cast  him  into  a  pit,  which  had  been  artfully  prepared  by 
Aaron  for  this  purpose.  Tamora  then  seeks  to  perform  in  like 
manner,  with  her  dagger,  upon  Lavinia ;  but  her  sons  interfere, 
in  order  to  carry  out  the  more  agreeable  purpose  previously 
suggested  to  them  by  Aaron.  Tamora,  after  a  moment's 
thought,  yields  to  the  congenial  wickedness  of  this  suggestion, 
and  despatches  her  offspring  to  the  brutal  task  with — 

But  when  ye  have  the  honey  you  desire, 
Let  not  this  wasp  outlive  us  both  to  sting. 

The  sons  follow  this  unnatural  counsel,  and  then,  by  way  of 
preventing  Lavinia  from  becoming  a  witness  against  them,  cut 
out  her  tongue  that  she  may  not  expose  them  by  speech,  and 
next  cut  off  her  hands,  that  she  may  not  betray  them  by 
writing. 

I  think  Shakespeare  may  be  acquitted  of  the  barbarity  of  this 
device,  but  he  cannot  be  excused  the  error  of  adopting  it ;  and, 
to  my  mind,  an  author  who  takes  advantage  of  the  trust  reposed 
in  him  by  his  audience,  to  wound  their  best  feelings  with 
unnecessary  horrors,  is  nearly  as  bad  as  the  characters  who 
perpetrate  them.  A  writer  should  reach  his  climax  by  tolerable 
steps,  and  he  is  not  justified  in  exercising  his  art  so  as  to  cause 
us  to  love  a  beautiful  ideal,  merely  that  he  may  torture  it  in 


3 1 6  Shakespeare^  from  an  A  merican  Point  of  View. 

our  presence,  any  more  than  a  boy  has  a  right  to  expect  us  to 
honour  him  for  his  dexterity  in  driving  pins  through  flies.  We 
can  bear  to  see  the  beautiful  Fantine  cut  off  her  golden  tresses 
to  feed  the  famishing  Cosette,  but,  when  she  is  made  to  part 
with  the  laughing  glory  of  her  mouth,  by  selling  to  the 
travelling  dentist  her  two  upper  front  teeth  to  obf.ain  medicines 
for  the  suffering  child,  we  can  scarcely  refrain  from  execrating 
Victor  Hugo  as  a  monster,  for  such  a  wanton  outrage  on  our 
sentiments, — a  monstrosity  which  is  rendered  all  the  greater 
by  the  vast  resources  of  his  genius,  and  because  he  is  enabled  to 
perpetrate  the  horror  only  through  a  violation  of  our  confidence. 
There  is  no  good  end  to  be  attained  by  making  human  nature 
look  worse  than  it  is,  and,  in  my  opinion,  the  author  who 
conjures  up  impossible  crimes  to  torture  the  heart  of  his  con- 
fiding listeners,  is  as  bad  as  the  real  perpetrator  of  such  cruelties 
himself. 

But  the  horrors  of  the  second  act  of  "Andronicus"  do  not  finish 
with  the  rape  and  mutilation  of  Lavinia.  The  villain  Aaron, 
who  had  suggested  her  violation  to  Chiron  and  Demetrius,  decoys 
two  of  the  three  remaining  sons  of  Titus,  Quintus  and  Martius, 
to  the  pit  where  Bassianus  lies  slain,  with  the  view  of  searching 
it  for  game.  The  mouth  of  the  pit  being  masked  with  boughs, 
Martius  falls  in,  and  Quintus  having  given  his  hand  to  extricate 
his  brother,  is  pulled  down  into  the  hole  along  with  him. 
Having  them  thus  snared  and  fast  (for  the  pit  had  been  pre- 
arranged), Aaron  brings  in  the  emperor  and  train,  and  charges 
the  two  live  brothers  in  the  pit,  with  the  murder  of  Bassianus, 
who  lies  dead  at  the  bottom.  Titus  pleads  in  vain  to  be  accepted 
as  the  surety  for  his  sons  until  their  trial  can  come  on ;  but  the 
emperor  refuses,  and  they  are  hurried  off  to  prison. 

The  monster  Aaron  next  appears  to  old  Titus,  who  is  now  half 
bereft  of  reason,  pretending  to  bring  a  message  from  the  emperor, 
to  the  effect,  that  if  he,  or  his  brother  Marcus,  or  his  last  son 
Lucius,  will,  either  of  them,  chop  off  a  hand,  Quintus  and 
Martius  shall  be  pardoned.  There  is  a  struggle,  at  once,  between 
the  two  old  men,  and  also  between  Lucius  and  the  father,  who 
shall  make  the  sacrifice;  but  Titus  succeeds  in  first  getting  his 
left  hand  to  the  sword  of  Aaron,  who  eagerly  strikes  it  off,  and 
carries  it  away.  In  a  few  minutes  after,  ancl  before  the  scene  is 
closed,  a  messenger  enters,  bearing  the  heads  of  Quintus  and 


"  Titus  Andronicus"  3 1 7 

Martius,  which  had  been  so  bloodily  redeemed,  and  Titus'  own 
still  smoking  hand. 

MESSENGEE.  Worthy  Andronicus,  ill  art  thou  repaid 

For  that  good  hand  thou  sent'st  the  emperor, 

Here  are  the  heads  of  thy  two  noble  sons ; 

And  here's  thy  hand,  in  scorn  to  thee  sent  back. 

Lucius,  the  last  of  Titus'  sons,  upon  this  concludes  that  it  is 
time  for  him  to  fly,  and  he  escapes  from  Rome  for  the  purpose 
of  gathering  an  army  among  the  Goths,  to  depose  the  emperor 
and  redress  his  father's  wrongs. 

In  the  next  act,  the  perpetrators  of  the  outrages  upon  Lavinia 
are  revealed  by  the  device  of  giving  her  a  long  staff,  one  end  of 
which  she  puts  into  her  mouth,  and  guiding  the  other  end  with 
her  stumps,  writes  the  names  of  Chiron  and  Demetrius  in  the 
sand ;  thus  showing  that  the  author  had  unnecessarily  cut  out 
her  tongue  and  chopped  off  her  hands.  Titus,  upon  this,  becomes 
altogether  mad,  and  in  this  state  affronts  the  emperor  with 
sardonic  messages,  for  which  he  would  have  been  put  to  death, 
but  for  the  timely  news  that  the  raging  Lucius  is  approaching 
Rome  with  a  great  army.  This  danger  induces  the  emperor  to 
temporize  with  Titus,  and  Tamora  finally  succeeds  in  persuading 
the  distraught  old  man  to  entreat  Lucius  to  come  into  the  city, 
to  agree  upon  a  treaty  and  to  share  a  feast.  Titus,  however, 
has  sanity  enough  left  to  divine  their  purpose,  and  though  he 
consents  to  the  proposal,  succeeds  in  securing  the  persons  of 
Chiron  and  Demetrius  in  advance,  and  slays  them  in  his  own 
house,  by  cutting  their  throats  over  a  bowl,  which  Lavinia  holds 
between  her  stumps.  Their  bodies  are  then  made  into  a  pasty, 
upon  which  their  mother  is  ignorantly  made  to  feed  during  the 
repast  that  follows.  After  Tamora  has  surfeited  herself  upon 
the  horrid  dish,  Titus  informs  her  that  she  has  been  munching 
and  digesting  the  bodies  of  her  own  sons. 

During  the  progress  of  the  banquet  (which  is  held  in  a 
pavilion  open  to  the  observation  of  the  People  and  the  troops), 
and  just  before  this  horrible  revelation  is  made  to  Tamora,  Titus 
mercifully  stabs  Lavinia,  in  the  Virginias  fashion.  He  next 
kills  Tamora ;  the  emperor  then  kills  him ;  whereupon  Lucius 
revenges  his  father  by  killing  the  emperor.  This  holocaust  of 
murder  finally  winds  up  by  the  execution  of  the  demon  Aaron ; 
after  which,  Lucius  takes  tranquil  possession  of  the  throne.  The 


318  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

following  is  the  full  scene  of  these  closing-  horrors  as  taken  from 
the  text : — 

Act  V.  Scene  3. 

Enter  TITUS,  dressed  UTce  a  cooJc.    LAVINIA  veiled,  young  Lucius  and 
others.     TITUS  places  the  dishes  on  the  table. 

TIT.     Welcome,  my  gracious  lord ;  welcome  dread  queen ; 

Welcome,  ye  warlike  Goths  ;  welcome  Lucius ; 

And  welcome,  all :  although  the  cheer  be  poor, 

'Twill  fill  your  stomachs ;  please  you  eat  of  it. 
SAT.      Why  art  thou  thus  attired,  Andronicus  ? 
TIT.     Because  I  would  be  sure  to  have  all  well, 

To  entertain  your  highness,  and  your  empress. 
TAM.    We  are  beholden  to  you,  good  Andronicus. 
TIT.     And  if  your  highness  knew  my  heart,  you  were. 

My  lord  the  emperor,  resolve  me  this  ; 

Was  it  well  done  of  rash  Virginius, 

To  slay  his  daughter  with  his  own  right  hand, 

Because  she  was  enforced,  stain'd,  and  deflowVd? 
SAT.      It  was,  Andronicus. 
TIT.     Your  reason,  mighty  lord  ! 
SAT.     Because  the  girl  should  not  survive  her  shame, 

And  by  her  presence  still  renew  his  sorrows. 
TIT.     A  reason  mighty,  strong,  and  effectual : 

A  pattern,  precedent,  and  lively  warrant, 

For  me,  most  wretched  to  perform  the  like ; — 

Die,  die,  Lavinia,  and  thy  shame  with  thee ;    [He  kills  LAYINIA. 

And,  with  thy  shame,  thy  father's  sorrow  die ! 
SAT.  What  hast  thou  done,  unnatural  and  unkind  ? 
TIT.  Kill'd  her,  for  whom  my  tears  have  made  me  blind. 

I  was  as  woeful  as  Virginius  was : 

And  have  a  thousand  times  more  cause  than  he 

To  do  this  outrage ; — and  it  is  now  done. 
SAT.     What,  was  she  ravish'd?  tell,  who  did  the  deed. 
TIT.     Will't  please  you  eat?  will't  please  your  highness  feed? 
TAM.     Why  hast  thou  slain  thine  only  daughter  thus  ? 
TIT.     Not  I ;  'twas  Chiron,  and  Demetrius  : 

They  ravish'd  her,  and  cut  away  her  tongue, 

And  they,  'twas  they,  that  did  her  all  this  wrong. 
SAT.     Go,  fetch  them  hither  to  us  present!}'. 
TIT.     Why,  there  they  are  both,  baked  in  that  pie ; 

Whereof  their  mother  daintily  hath  fed, 

Eating  the  flesh  that  she  herself  hath  bred. 

'Tis  true,  'tis  true ;  witness  my  knife's  sharp  point. 

[Killing  TAMOEA. 
SAT.      Die,  frantic  wretch,  for  this  accursed  deed.     [Killing  TITUS. 


"  Titus  Andronicus"  319 

Luc.     Can  the  son's  eye  behold  his  father  bleed  ? 

There's  meed  for  meed,  death  for  a  deadly  deed. 

\JKills  SATUBNINUS.  A  great  tumult.  The  people  in  confusion  disperse. 
MAECUS,  Lucius,  and  their  partisans  ascend  the  steps  before  TITUS' 
house. ,] 

The  mind  of  Shakespeare  is  manifest  in  the  above  language, 
though  with  a  less  full,  and  evidently  much  less  practised 
strength,  than  in  any  other  of  his  dramatic  works. 

Knight  and  Collier  unhesitatingly  ascribe  the  authorship  of 
"  Titus  Andronicus"  to  Shakespeare ;  Coleridge  disputes  the  pre- 
sence of  Shakespeare,  except  in  certain  passages,  and  Gervinius 
doubts  its  Shakespearian  authenticity  altogether,  keenly  observ- 
ing that,  whatever  may  be  the  truth,  amongst  all  this  variety 
of  opinion,  "  there  are  a  few,  who  value  Shakespeare,  who 
would  not  wish  to  have  it  proved  that  this  piece  did  not  pro- 
ceed from  our  poet's  pen.""  Further  on,  the  same  acute  reasoner 
observes, — 

"  The  whole,  indeed,  sounds  less  like  the  early  work  of  a  great 
genius  than  the  production  of  a  mediocre  mind,  which  in  a  certain 
self-satisfied  security  felt  itself  already  at  its  apex.  But  that 
which,  in  our  opinion,  decides  against  its  Shakespearian  author- 
ship is  the  coarseness  of  the  characterization,  the  lack  of  the  most 
ordinary  probability  in  the  actions,  and  the  unnatural  motives 
assigned  to  them.  The  style  of  a  young  writer  may  be  perverted, 
and  his  taste  almost  necessarily  at  first  goes  astray;  but  that 
which  lies  deeper  than  all  this  exterior  and  ornament  of  art — 
namely,  the  estimate  of  man,  the  deduction  of  motives  of  action, 
and  the  general  contemplation  of  human  nature — this  is  the 
power  of  an  innate  talent,  which,  under  the  guidance  of  sound 
instinct,  is  usually  developed  at  an  early  stage  of  life.  Whatever 
piece  of  Shakespeare's  we  regard  as  his  first,  everywhere,  even  in 
his  narratives,  the  characters  are  delineated  with  a  firm  hand — 
the  lines  may  be  weak  and  faint,  but  nowhere  are  they  drawn,  as 
here,  with  a  harsh  and  distorted  touch.  And  besides,  Shakespeare 
ever  knew  how  to  devise  the  most  natural  motives  for  the 
strangest  actions  in  the  traditions  which  he  undertook  to  drama- 
tize, and  this  even  in  his  earliest  plays ;  but  nowhere  has  he 
grounded,  as  in  this  piece,  the  story  of  his  play  upon  the  most 

apparent  improbability He  who  compares  the  most 

wicked  of  all  the  characters  which  Shakespeare  depicted  with  this 


320  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Aaron,  who  cursed  '  the  day  in  which  he  did  not  some  notorious 
ill/  will  feel  that  in  the  one  some  remnant  of  humanity  is 
ever  preserved,  while  in  the  other  a  f  ravenous  tiger '  commits 
unnatural  deeds  and  speaks  unnatural  language.'''' l 

1  Act  Y.  Scene  1. 
AAEON.    An  if  it  please  thee  ?  why,  assure  thee,  Lucius, 

'Twill  vex  thy  soul  to  hear  what  I  shall  speak ; 

For  I  must  talk  of  murders,  rapes,  and  massacres, 

Acts  of  black  night,  abominable  deeds, 

Com  plots  of  mischief,  treason  ;  villanies 

Euthful  to  hear,  yet  piteously  perform 'd  ; 

*  *  * 

This  was  but  a  deed  of  charity, 
To  that  which  thou  shalt  hear  of  me  anon. 
'Twas  her  two  sons,  that  murder'd  Bassianus ; 
They  cut  thy  sister's  tongue,  and  ravish'd  her, 
And  cut  her  hands;  and  trimm'd  her  as  thou  saw'st. 

*  *  * 

Well,  let  my  deeds  be  witness  of  my  worth. 

I  train'd  thy  brethren  to  that  guileful  hole, 

Where  the  dead  corpse  of  Bassianus  lay : 

I  wrote  the  letter  that  thy  father  found. 

And  hid  the  gold  within  the  letter  mention'd, 

Confederate  with  the  queen,  and  her  two  sons ; 

And  what  not  done,  that  thou  hast  cause  to  rue, 

Wherein  I  had  no  stroke  of  mischief  in  it? 

I  play'd  the  cheater  for  thy  father's  hand ; 

And,  when  I  had  it,  drew  myself  apart, 

And  almost  broke  my  heart  with  extreme  laughter. 

I  pry'd  me  through  the  crevice  of  a  wall, 

When,  for  his  hand,  he  had  his  two  sons'  heads ; 

Beheld  his  tears,  and  laugh'd  so  heartily, 

That  both  mine  eyes  were  rainy  like  to  his. 

*  *  * 

Luc.  Art  thou  not  sorry  for  these  heinous  deeds  ? 

AAB.  Ay,  that  I  had  not  done  a  thousand  more. 

Even  now  I  curse  the  day  (and  yet,  I  think, 

Pew  come  within  the  compass  of  my  curse), 

Wherein  I  did  not  some  notorious  ill : 

As  kill  a  man,  or  else  devise  his  death  ; 

Kavish  a  maid,  or  plot  the  way  to  do  it ; 

Accuse  some  innocent,  and  forswear  myself: 

Set  deadly  enmity  between  two  friends ; 

Make  poor  men's  cattle  break  their  necks ; 

Set  fire  on  barns  and  hay-stacks  in  the  night, 

And  bid  the  owners  quench  them  with  their  tears. 


"  Titus  Androniciis"  321 

The  point  which  we  derive  from  this  steaming  vat  of  blood, 
horror,  incongruity,  and  incredible  consequence,  is,  that  such  a 
treatise  could  not  have  been  conjured  as  a  picture  of  possible 
human  events  from  the  cool,  philosophic,  exact,  and  rational 
mind  of  Sir  Francis  Bacon.  He  was  a  man  of  method,  of 
reason,  of  logic,  and  of  tranquil  development,  and  he  could  no 
more  have  thought  out,  or  have  countenanced  such  absurd 
monstrosities,  than  Newton  could  have  conceived  Barbarossa, 
or  Des  Cartes  have  written  Bombastes  Furioso.  Shakespeare 
undoubtedly  was  the  man  who  adapted  and  produced  this 
play,  and  in  this  connexion,  I  have  only  to  add  the  remark  of 
Doctor  Johnson,  while  discussing  the  authenticity  of  another 
disputed  performance  of  our  author,  to  wit,  that  if  the  lines 
attributed  to  him  in  "  Titus  Andronicus"  be  not  his,  what  other 
man  of  his  time  could  possibly  have  written  them  ? 

There  are  but  one  or  two  other  points  in  the  text  which  I 
desire  to  call  attention  to,  as  bearing  upon  the  Baconian  theory, 
and  as  touching  (though  but  slightly)  the  question  of  Shake- 
speare's unremitting  contempt  for  the  masses  of  the  People.  As 
I  have  been  extreme  in  my  declarations  upon  this  point,  T  desire 
to  submit  to  the  reader  every  line  I  find,  which  seems,  even  in 
the  remotest  degree,  to  support  argument  on  the  other  side.  If 
there  are  any  not  noticed  in  these  chapters,  it  is  because  they 
have  escaped  my  observation. 


Oft  have  I  digg'd  up  dead  men  from  their  graves, 
And  set  them  upright  at  their  dear  friends'  doors, 
Even  when  their  sorrows  almost  were  forgot ; 
And  on  their  skins,  as  on  the  bark  of  trees, 
Have  with  my  knife  carved  in  Roman  letters, 
Let  not  your  sorrows  die,  though  I  am  dead. 
Tut,  I  have  done  a  thousand  dreadful  things. 
As  willingly  as  one  would  kill  a  fly  ; 
And  nothing  grieves  me  heartily,  indeed, 
But  that  I  cannot  do  ten  thousand  more. 

Luc.    Bring  down  the  devil;  for  he  must  not  die 
So  sweet  a  death,  as  hanging  presently. 

AAK.    If  there  be  devils,  'would  I  were  a  devil, 
To  live  and  burn  in  everlasting  fire ; 
So  I  might  have  your  company  in  hell, 
But  to  torment  you  with  my  bitter  tongue  ! 

Luc.     Sirs,  stop  his  mouth,  and  let  him  speak  no  more. 


322    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

The  first  illustration  in  the  premises  occurs  in  Act  V.  Scene  3, 
immediately  after  the  wholesale  killing  of  Lavinia,  Tamora, 
Titus,  and  Saturninus  has  taken  place. 

A  great  tumult  is  the  immediate  result.  The  crowd,  consist- 
ing of  people  of  all  ranks  of  society,  separate  in  great  confu- 
sion, or,  to  use  the  explanatory  language  at  the  head  of  the 
scene,  "  the  people  disperse  in  terror."  To  the  numbers  which 
remain,  and  which  consist  mostly  of  patricians,  senators,  and 
men  of  rank,  Marcus,  the  brother  of  Titus  Andronicus,  thus 
speaks  in  the  interest  of  Lucius'  elevation  to  the  throne  :— 

MAECUS.  You  sad-faced  men,  people,  and  sons  of  Kome, 
By  uproar  sever'd  like  a  flight  of  fowl, 
Scatter'd  by  winds  and  high  tempestuous  gusts, 
O !  let  me  teach  you  how  to  knit  again 
This  scatter'd  corn  into  one  mutual  sheaf, 
These  broken  limbs  again  into  one  body. 

His  speech  is  favourably  responded  to  by  a  Roman  lord, 
whereupon  Lucius,  after  a  little  more  aristocratic  pressure, 
modestly  accepts : — 

Lucius.  Thanks,  gentle  Romans :  may  I  govern  so, 

To  heal  Rome's  harms  and  wipe  away  her  woe ! 
But,  gentle  people,  give  me  aim  awhile. 

It  will  be  observed,  however,  that  these  speeches  to  "the 
People  "  and  "  sons  of  Rome  "  are  addressed  to  them  by  politi- 
cians, who  are  beseeching  their  common  suffrages  for  a  kingly 
crown. 

I  place  no  importance  upon  the  above  extracts  as  a  diversion 
of  the  argument,  but  I  give  them  rather  as  a  curiosity,  in 
that,  they  are  the  very  first  instances,  in  the  twenty-nine  plays 
I  have  thus  far  reviewed,  in  which  Shakespeare  has  allowed 
himself  to  allude  to  the  People  without  some  voluntary  term  of 
disrespect. 


"  PERICLES, 

This  play  contributes  little,  if  anything,  to  our  special  inquiries; 
and  only  demands  a  mere  mention  as  we  pass  along.  It  is  classed 
with  "  Titus  Andronicus  "  by  the  commentators,  as  being  of  very 
doubtful  autnenticitjr,  all  of  them  rating  it  as  one  of  our  poet's 


"  Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre''  323 

earliest  performances,  Dryden  placing  it  as  his  very  first. 
Knight  says,  that  the  first  edition  of  " Pericles"  appeared  in 
1609,  under  the  title  of  "  The  late  and  much-admired  play  called 
Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre,  with  the  true  relation  of  the  whole 
historic  adventures  and  fortunes  of  the  said  prince,  and  also  the 
no  less  strange  and  worthy  accidents  in  the  birth  and  life  of  his 
daughter,  Marina;  as  it  hath  been  divers  and  sundry  times  acted 
by  his  Majestie's  servants  at  the  Globe,  on  the  Bank  side.  By 
William  Shakespeare/'' 

The  story  was  of  very  great  antiquity,  having  appeared  in  the 
Gesta  Eomanorum  five  hundred  years  ago,  and  was  first  done  into 
English  by  an  author  named  Gower,  in  1554.  From  Gower's 
poem  the  play  was  probably  constructed,  the  author  of  it,  who- 
ever he  was,  welding  together  its  incongruities  of  time  and 
scene,  by  using  old  Gower  as  a  Chorus,  after  the  Shakespearian 
fashion.  Gower  is,  in  this  way,  introduced  at  the  commencement 
of  every  act  and  even  in  the  course  of  an  act,  with  some  of  the 
weakest  doggerel  rhymes  that  can  be  conceived  of,  hardly  one  of 
which  can  be  reasonably  attributed  to  Shakespeare;  unless, 
indeed,  he  was  imitating  that  mode  of  the  familiar  narrative 
rhyme  of  the  time.  Nearly  all  the  critics  are  against  the  authen- 
ticity of  "  Pericles  ; "  but  I  find  expressions  in  it — nay,  whole 
scenes,  which  cannot,  in  my  judgment,  be  attributed  to  any 
other  hand  than  that  of  our  poet.  I  should  decide  the  following 
two  lines  to  be  Shakespeare's : — 

Kings  are  earth's  gods :  in  vice  their  law's  their  will ; 

And  if  Jove  stray,  who  dare  say  Jove  doth  ill. — Act  I.  Scene  1. 

Also,  the  lines  of  Pericles  to  Marina : — 

Yet  dost  thou  look 

Like  Patience  gazing  on  king's  graves,  and  smiling 
Extremity  out  of  act. 

Which  reminds  us  of  his  previous  expression  in  "  The  Twelfth 
Night:"— 

She  sat  like  Patience  on  a  monument 
Smiling  at  grief. 

I  should  also  adopt,  as  genuine,  the  scene  between  Pericles 
and  the  fishermen,  in  the  second  act ;  also  the  scene  between 
Boult  and  the  bawd  in  the  fourth  Act,  and,  certainly,  the 
following  from  the  third  act :  — 


324    Shakespeare^from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Act  III.  Scene  1. 
Enter  PEEICLES,  on  a  ship  at  sea. 

PEE.     Thou  God  of  this  great  vast,  rebuke  these  surges, 

Which  wash  hoth  heaven  and  hell ;  and  thou,  that  hast 

Upon  the  winds  command,  bind  them  in  brass, 

Having  call'd  them  from  the  deep  !  0,  still  thy  deaf'ning, 

Thy  dreadful  thunders ;  gently  quench  thy  nimble, 

Sulphurous  flashes ! — 0  how,  Lychorida, 

How  does  my  queen  ? — Thou  storm,  thou  !  venomously 

Wilt  thou  spit  all  thyself? — The  seaman's  whistle 

Is  as  a  whisper  in  the  ears  of  death, 

Unheard. — Lychorida ! — Lucina,  0 

Divinest  patroness,  and  midwife,  gentle 

To  those  that  cry  by  night,  convey  thy  deity 

Aboard  our  dancing  boat ;  make  swift  the  pangs 

Of  my  queen's  travails ! — Now,  Lychorida 

Enter  LYCHOEIDA,  with  an  infant. 

LYC.     Here  is  a  thing 

Too  young  for  such  a  place,  who,  if  it  had 

Conceit,  would  die  as  I  am  like  to  do. 

Take  in  your  arms  this  piece  of  your  dead  queen. 

PEE.     How !  how,  Lychorida  ! 

LYC.     Patience,  good  sir  ;  do  not  assist  the  storm,2 
Here's  all  that  is  left  living  of  your  queen, — 
A  little  daughter ;  for  the  sake  of  it, 
Be  manly,  and  take  comfort, 

*  *  * 

PEE.  Now,  mild  may  be  thy  life  ! 

For  a  more  blust'rous  birth  had  never  babe  : 

Quiet  and  gentle  thy  conditions  ! 

For  thou'rt  the  rudeliest  welcomed  to  this  world, 

That  e'er  was  prince's  child.     Happy  what  follows ! 

Thou  hast  as  chiding  a  nativity, 

As  fire,  air,  water,  earth,  and  heaven  can  make, 

To  herald  thee  from  the  womb  :  even  at  the  first, 

Thy  loss  is  more  than  can  thy  portage  quit, 

With  all  thou  canst  find  here.     Now  the  good  gods 

Throw  their  best  eyes  upon  it ! 

Enter  two  Sailors. 

1  SAIL.    What  courage,  sir  ?     God  save  you. 
PEE.         Courage  enough  :  I  do  not  fear  the  flaw ; 

It  hath  done  to  me  the  worst.     Yet,  for  the  love 

Of  this  poor  infant,  this  fresh-new  sea-farer, 

I  would  it  would  be  quiet. 

2  You  do  assist  the  storm. — "  Tempest,"  Act  I.  Scene  1. 


"  Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre."  325 

1  SAIL.  Slack  the  bolins  there ;  thou  wilt  not,  wilt  thou  ?     Blow  and  split 
thyself." 

2  SAIL.  But  sea-room,  an'  the  brine  and  cloudy  billow  kiss  the  moon,  I 
care  not. 

1  SAIL.  Sir,  your  queen  must  overboard  ;  the  sea  works  high,  the  wind  is 
loud,  and  will  not  lie  till  the  ship  be  cleared  of  the  dead. 
PEE.  That's  your  superstition. 

1  SAIL.  Pardon  us,  sir ;  with  us  at  sea  it  still  hath  been  observed  ;  and  we 
are  (running)  strong  astern.  Therefore  briefly  yield  her ;  for  she  must  over- 
board straight. 

PEE.     Be  it  as  you  think  meet.     Most  wretched  queen  ! 
LTC.     Here  she  lies,  sir. 

PEE.     A  terrible  child-bed  hast  thou  had,  my  dear ; 
No  light,  no  fire :  the  unfriendly  elements 
Forgot  thee  utterly  ;  nor  have  I  time 
To  give  thee  hallow'd  to  thy  grave,  but  straight 
Must  cast  thee,  scarcely  coffin'd,  in  the  ooze  ; 
Where,  for  a  monument  upon  thy  bones, 
And  aye-remaining  lamps,  the  belching  whale 
And  humming  water  must  o'erwhelm  thy  corpse, 
Lying  with  simple  shells. 

In  my  judgment,  only  Shakespeare  could  have  written  these 
last  nine  lines. 

Gervinius,  in  commenting  upon  this  play,  says,  "  We  should 
therefore,  prefer  to  assume  that  Shakespeare  appropriated  the 
piece  soon  after  its  origin,  about  1590.  At  the  time  that  the 
play  was  printed  with  Shakespeare's  name,  in  1602,  it  may,  per- 
haps, have  been  re-prepared  for  Burbage's  acting,  and  through 
this  it  may  have  acquired  its  new  fame.  That  at  that  time  it 
excited  fresh  sensation  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  the  perform- 
ance of  the  piece  gave  rise  to  a  novel,  composed  in  1608,  by 
George  Wilkens,  entitled  '  The  true  history  of  the  play  of 
Pericles,  as  it  was  lately  represented  by  the  worthy  and  ancient 
poet,  John  Gower/  In  this  publication  we  read  the  Iambic 
verses  and  passages  of  the  piece  transposed  into  prose,  but  in  a 
manner  which  allows  us  to  infer  that  the  play,  at  that  time  was 
reprinted  in  a  more  perfect  form  than  that  in  which  we  now  read 
it.  Shakespeare's  pen — so  easily  is  it  to  be  distinguished — is 
recognized  in  this  prose  version  in  expressions,  which  are  not  to 
be  found  in  the  drama,  but  which  must  have  been  used  upon  the 

3  Blow  till  thou  burst  thy  wind,  if  room  enough. — "  Tempest,"  Act  I. 
Scene  1. 

22 


326    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

stage.  When  Pericles  (Act  III.  Scene  1)  receives  the  child 
born  in  the  tempest,,  he  says  to  it, — 

Thou'rt  the  rudeliest  welcomed  to  this  world 
That  e'er  was  prince's  child. 

To  this  the  novel  adds  the  epithet, — 

Poor  inch  of  nature. 

Merely  four  words,  in  which  every  reader  must  recognize  our 
poet.  We,  therefore,  probably  read  this  drama  now,  in  a  form 
which  it  neither  bore  when  Shakespeare  put  his  hand  to  it  for 
the  first,  nor  for  the  last  time." ' 

With  this  recognition  of  Shakespeare,  in  the  above  four  lines, 
I  heartily  agree,  for  no  such  flower  could  have  blossomed  from 
any  other  stock. 

4  "  Shakespeare's  Commentaries,"  by  Gervinius,  pp.  Ill,  112.  Scribner's 
Edition,  N.  Y. 


.-• 


"  Macbeth:'  327 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 


IT  requires  from  a  reviewer  the  exercise  of  great  self-restraint, 
when  passing  through  the  intellectual  splendours  of  such  a  com- 
position as  "  Macbeth/'  to  withstand  the  temptation  to  dwell 
upon  its  glories,  while  travelling  along  the  comparatively  narrow 
line  of  an  allotted  path ;  nevertheless  there  is  but  one  true  way 
to  perform  a  duty,  and  that  is  to  adhere  strictly  to  the  boundaries 
set  for  ourselves  at  the  beginning,  and  not  be  drawn  aside  by 
allurements  which  may  be  yielded  to  only  by  the  general  critic. 
It  need  not  surprise  the  reader,  therefore,  if  this  great  pro- 
duction of  our  poet,  which  is  suggestive  of  such  command- 
ing thoughts,  should  contribute  so  little  to  the  scope  of  our 
review. 

Mr.  Thomas  Kenny,  who  has  written  most  ably  on  the  sub- 
ject of  " Macbeth/''1  characterizes  it  as  "a  drama  of  gigantic 
crime  and  terror,  relieved  by  the  most  magnificent  imaginative 
expression/'  yet  marked  with  great  simplicity  of  general  design. 
The  date  of  the  production  of  the  piece  is  set  by  Furnival  at 
1605-6;  and  "  we  may  take  it  for  granted/'  says  Kenny,  "that 
it  was  written  in  the  time  of  James  I.,  who  ascended  the  throne 
March,  1603,  as  it  contains  an  evident  allusion  to  that  monarch 
in  Act  IV.  Scene  1,  and  also  a  complimentary  reference  to  him 
in  another  part.  The  material  for  the  play  was  found  by  Shake- 
speare in  Holinshed's  '  History  of  Scotland/  where  the  story  of 
Macbeth  is  told,  at  page  168."  There,  Macbeth  and  Duncan  are 
represented  to  have  been  cousins ;  the  first  a  valiant  gentleman, 
but  of  a  cruel  disposition,  and  the  latter  "  so  soft  and  gentle  in 
his  nature  that  the  people  wished  the  inclinations  and  manners 
of  the  two  to  have  been  so  tempered  and  interchangeably  shared 

1  "  The  Life  and  Genius  of  Shakespeare,"  by  Thomas  Kenny.     Longman 
and  Co.,  London,  1864. 


328     Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

betwixt  them,  that  where  the  one  had  too  much  of  clemency,  and 
the  other  of  cruelty,  the  main  virtue  betwixt  these  two  extremities 
might  have  reigned  by  indifferent  partition  in  them  both/''  Some 
light  is  afforded  as  to  the  date  in  which  this  tragedy  is  laid,  by 
James  Logan's  magnificently  illustrated  folio  on  the  "  Clans  of 
the  Scottish  Highlands/'  in  which  it  is  stated  that  Macduff 
overcame  Macbeth  in  1056.  See  vol.  i.  (published  by  Willis 
and  Sothern,  136,  Strand,  London).  The  play  all  along  keeps 
close  to  the  line  of  Holinshed,  varying  from  it  in  scarcely  any 
main  particular,  except  in  the  non-appearance,  in  the  banquet- 
scene,  of  the  murdered  Banquo's  ghost.  In  treating  of  the 
second  act,  Kenny  says,  "  There  is  in  the  literature  of  all  ages 
no  scene  of  pure  natural  terror  so  true,  so  vivid,  so  startling,  as 
the  murder  of  Duncan,  with  all  its  wonderful  accompaniments. 
Through  the  magic  art  of  the  poet  we  lose  our  detestation  of  the 
guilty  authors  of  the  deed,  in  the  absorbing  sympathy  with  which 
we  share  their  breathless  disquietude.'" 

The  first  illustration  I  find  in  the  text  exhibiting  the  tendency 
of  Shakespeare's  mind  for  almost  religious  homage  to  the  sacred 
person  of  a  king,  occurs  in  Act  II.  Scene  3,  on  the  discovery 
of  Duncan's  murder : — 

MAC.    Confusion  now  hath  made  his  masterpiece  ! 
Most  sacriligious  murder  hath  broke  ope 
The  Lord 's  anointed  temple,  and  stolen  thence 
The  life  o'  the  building. 

The  next  illustration  comes  in  the  incantation  scene  in  the 
fourth  act,  and  it  may  be  taken  as  an  evidence  of  the  Catholic 
bitterness  of  our  poet  against  the  crucifiers  of  the  Saviour.  Among 
the  most  fell  ingredients  of  the  cauldron  which  the  Third  Witch 
contributes  to  the  hell-broth  is — 

Liver  of  blaspheming  Jew. 

Next  to  this  comes  the  following  ascription  of  supernatural 
and  almost  godlike  powers  to  a  kingly  ancestor  of  James  II.,  in 
being  able,  by  a  mere  touch  of  his  anointed  hand,  to  cure  the 
terrible  disease  known  as  the  king's  evil.  In  this  homage,  how- 
ever, it  must  be  admitted  that  our  poet  shared  his  superstition 
with  the  public ;  but  a  mind  like  Shakespeare's  might  well  have 
been  superior  to  such  blind  belief. 


"Macbeth"  329 

Act  IV.  Scene  3. 

England. — A  Room  in  tlie  English  King's  Palace.     Present — MALCOLM 

and  MACDUFF. 
Enter  a  Doctor. 

MAL.  (to  Doctor).  Comes  the  king  forth,  I  pray  you  ? 
DOCT.  Ay,  sir,  there  are  a  crew  of  wretched  souls, 

That  stay  his  cure :  their  malady  convinces 

The  great  assay  of  art ;  but,  at  his  touch, 

Suck  sanctity  liatli  heaven  given  his  hand, 

They  presently  amend. 

MAL.    I  thank  you,  doctor.  [Exit  DOCTOE. 

MACD.  What's  the  disease  he  means  ? 
MAL.  'Tis  call'd  the  evil : 

A  most  miraculous  work  in  this  good  king : 

Which  often,  since  my  here-remain  in  England, 

I  have  seen  him  do.     How  he  solicits  heaven, 

Himself  hest  knows  :  but  strangely- visited  people, 

All  swoln  and  ulcerous,  pitiful  to  the  eye, 

The  mere  despair  of  surgery,  he  cures  ; 

Hanging  a  golden  stamp  about  their  necks,2 

Put  on  with  holy  prayers  :  and  'tis  spoken, 

To  the  succeeding  royalty  he  leaves 

The  healing  benediction.     With  this  strange  virtue, 

He  hath  a  heavenly  gift  of  prophecy  ; 

And  sundry  blessings  hang  about  his  throne, 

That  speak  him  full  of  grace. 3 

It  is  said  by  Davenant  that,  in  recognition  of  this  fulsome 
compliment,  King  James  sent  Shakespeare  a  letter  of  acknow- 

2  The  image  was,  doubtless,  suggested  to  the  poet's  mind  by  the  little  cus- 
tomary Catholic  medal  which  he,  in  common  with  all  true  believers,  doubtless 
wore  about  his  neck. 

3  The  superstition  of  touching  for  king's  evil  continued  down  to  the  time 
of  George  III.,  and  Dr.  Johnson  tells  us  that  he  himself  was  touched  for  the 
evil  by  Queen  Anne.     He  was  quite  a  child  at  the  time,  but  remembered  her 
Majesty  as  being  a  solemn-looking  lady  wearing  a  black  silk  gown  and 
diamonds.     His  mother,  who  carried  him  to  London  to  be  touched,  had  acted 
on  the  advice  of  the  celebrated  Sir  John  Floyn,  a  physician  of  Lichfield. — 
Boswell's  "  Life  of  Johnson,"  vol.  i.  p.  25. 

In  the  London  Gazette,  No.  2180,  appears  this  advertisement : — "  White- 
hall, Oct.  8, 1683.  His  Majesty  has  graciously  appointed  to  heal  for  the  evil 
upon  Frydays,  and  has  commanded  his  physicians  and  chirugeans  to  attend 
at  the  office  approved  by  the  prayers  in  the  Meuse,  upon  Thursdays,  in  the 
afternoon  and  to  give  out  tickets."  On  March  30,  1712,  Queen  Anne  touched 
200  persons  for  evil.  Dean  Swift  firmly  believed  in  royalty's  curing  the  evil 
by  the  imposition  of  hands. 


33°  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

ledgment  in  his  own  handwriting.  Kenny  closes  his  remarks 
upon  "  Macbeth"  by  saying  that  "  some  critics  claim  for  it  the 
distinction  of  being  the  poet's  greatest  work.  We  believe  that 
judgments  of  this  description  can  only  be  adopted  with  many 
qualifications.  '  Macbeth/  wants  the  subtle  life  which  distin- 
guishes some  of  the  other  dramatic  conceptions  of  Shakespeare. 
Its  action  is  plain,  rapid,  downright ;  and  its  larger  form  of  ex- 
pression seems  now  and  then  somewhat  constrained  and  artificial. 
But  it  was  evidently  written  in  the  very  plenitude  of  the  poet's 
powers,  and  in  its  wonderful  scenic  grandeur  it  must  for  ever 
occupy  a  foremost  place  among  the  creations  of  his  majestic 
imagination/' 

The  Baconians  find  in  this  tragedy  some  passages  which, 
they  think,  are  similar  to  those  previously  expressed  by  Sir 
Francis  in  his  philosophical  works,  thus  indicating  a  unity  of 
authorship  for  both.  The  following  is  one  of  these  assumed 
parallels,  the  first  extract  of  which  is  taken  from  Bacon's  "  Essay 
on  Building  :" — 

"  He  that  builds  a  fair  house  upon  an  ill  seat  committeth  him- 
self to  prison ;  nor  do  I  reckon  that  an  ill  seat  only,  where  the 
air  is  unwholesome,  but  likewise  where  it  is  unequal." 

Now  comes  the  assumed  parallel  in  "  Macbeth/'  Act  I.  Scene  6. 

His  castle  hath  a  pleasant  seat — the  air 
Nimbly  and  sweetly  recommends  itself 
Unto  our  gentle  senses. 

I  cheerfully  leave  the  force  of  this  proof  to  the  judgment  of  the 
reader,  and  also,  with  equal  willingness,  refer  to  the  same  judg- 
ment the  following  remarks  of  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell  upon 
the  evidences  to  be  found  in  "  Macbeth"  of 

THE   LEGAL   ACQUIREMENTS   OF   SHAKESPEARE. 

"  In  perusing  this  unrivalled  tragedy,"  says  his  lordship,  "  I 
am  so  carried  away  by  the  intense  interest  which  it  excites  that 
I  fear  I  may  have  passed  over  legal  phrases  and  allusions  which 
I  ought  to  have  noticed ;  but  the  only  passage  I  find  with  the 
juridical  mark  upon  it  in  'Macbeth'  is  in  Act  IV.  Scene  1, 
where,  the  hero  exulting  in  the  assurance  from  the  Weird  Sisters 
that  he  can  receive  harm  from  '  none  of  woman  born,'  he,  rather 
in  a  lawyer-like  manner,  resolves  to  provide  an  indemnity,  if  the 
worst  should  come  to  the  worst, — 


"  Cymbeline"  331 

But  yet  I'll  make  assurance  double  sure, 
And  take  a  bond  of  fate  ; 

— without  much  considering  what  should  be  the  penalty  of  the 
bond,  or  how  he  was  to  enforce  the  remedy,  if  the  condition 
should  be  broken. 

He,  immediately  after,  goes  on  in  the  same  legal  jargon  to 
say,-— 

Our  high-placed  Macbeth 
Shall  live  the  lease  of  nature. 

But,  unluckily  for  Macbeth,  the  lease  contained  no  covenants 
for  title  or  quiet  enjoyment : — there  were  likewise  forfeitures  to  be 
incurred  by  the  tenant —  with  a  clause  of  re-entry— -and  conse- 
quently he  was  speedily  ousted."  So  much  for  Lord  Campbell's 
observations  on  "  Macbeth." 


"  This  exquisite  and  romantic  drama,"  says  the  Rev.  William 
Harness,  "  was  probably  written  in  1609 ;  and  the  plot  was  taken 
in  a  great  degree  from  the  Decameron  of  Boccacio."  According 
to  Holinshed,  whose  English  history  is  the  source  of  much  of 
Shakespeare's  work,  Cymbeline  began  his  reign  in  the  nineteenth 
year  of  that  of  Augustus  Csesar,  and  the  play  opens  in  the  twenty- 
fourth  year  of  that  reign.  Holinshed  reports  him  to  have  reigned 
thirty-five  years  in  all,  leaving  at  his  death  two  sons,  Guiderius 
and  Arviragus,  upon  whose  fortunes  a  portion  of  the  action  turns. 
These  sons  were  stolen  from  the  king  in  their  infancy,  by  an  old 
knight  named  Belarius,  in  revenge  for  having  been  banished  fey 
the  king  on  an  unjust  suspicion  of  his  complicity  with  the  Roman 
enemy.  Belarius  carried  the  boys  to  Wales,  where,  when  they 
had  grown  strong  enough,  he  lived  with  them  in  a  cave,  and 
trained  them  to  hunting  and  other  manly  exercises.  This  depri- 
vation left  the  king  with  an  only  daughter,  Imogen,  who  then 
became  heiress  of  his  crown,  it  being  believed  that  the  stolen 
boys  were  dead.  The  king,  after  a  long  period  of  decorous 
sorrow,  married  a  widow  (a  feeble  copy  of  Lady  Macbeth)  who 
brought  with  her  an  only  son,  named  Cloten,  a  coarse,  drunken, 
vicious,  depraved  creature,  inheriting  nearly  all  possible  vices  from 


332  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

his  scheming  and  unprincipled  mother.  The  new  queen  aimed, 
naturally  enough,  at  the  hand  of  the  crown  princess  for  her  son, 
but  when  she  had  obtained  the  king's  consent  to  the  match  it 
was  suddenly  discovered  that  Imogen  had  been  secretly  married 
to  a  gentleman  named  Leonatus  Posthumus.  This  leads  to  the 
banishment  of  Posthumus,  and  to  the  subsequent  elopement  of 
Imogen  from  the  court  to  find  him.  This  sketch  of  the  story  is 
sufficient  to  enable  the  reader  to  appreciate  our  illustrations. 
The  first  of  these  presents  itself  in  Act  III.  Scene  3,  where  we 
find  Belarius  seated  with  Guiderius  and  Arviragus,  now  grown 
to  men's  estate,  in  front  of  a  cave  in  a  mountainous  country  in 
Wales.  The  old  man  has,  to  this  moment,  kept  the  young  princes 
ignorant  of  their  noble  birth,  having  re-named  them  respectively 
Polydore  and  Cadwal;  and  he  is  now  discoursing  with  them 
upon  the  incidents  of  the  day's  hunt,  preliminary  to  despatching 
them  again  to  the  mountains  to  renew  the  chase.  When  they 
are  gone,  our  poet  embraces  the  opportunity  for  Belarius  to  incul- 
cate upon  the  British  mind  the  innate  and  instinctive  royalty  of 
kings : — 

How  hard  it  is,  to  hide  the  sparks  of  nature  ! 

These  boys  know  little,  they  are  sons  to  the  king  ; 

Nor  Cymbeline  dreams  that  they  are  alive. 

They  think  they  are  mine  :  and,  though  train  d  up  thus  meanly 

T  the  cave,  wherein  they  bow,  their  thoughts  do  hit 

The  roofs  of  palaces  ;  and  nature  prompts  them, 

In  simple  and  low  things,  to  prince  it,  much 

Beyond  the  trick  of  others.     This  Polydore — 

The  heir  of  Cymbeline  and  Britain,  whom 

The  king  his  father  called  Guiderius, — Jove  ! 

When  on  my  three-foot  stool  I  sit,  and  tell 

The  warlike  feats  I  have  done,  his  spirits  fly  out 

Into  my  story :  say, — Thus  mine  enemy  fell ; 

And  thus  I  set  my  foot  on  his  neck ;  even  then 

The  princely  blood  flows  in  his  clieeTc,  he  sweats, 

Strains  his  young  nerves,  and  puts  himself  in  posture 

That  acts  my  words.     The  younger  brother,  Cadwal, 

(Once  Arviragus),  in  as  like  a  figure, 

Strikes  life  into  my  speech,  and  shows  much  more 

His  own  conceiving.     Hark  !  the  game  is  roused  ! — 

0  Cymbeline  !  heaven,  and  my  conscience,  knows, 

Thou  didst  unjustly  banish  me  :  whereon, 

At  three,  and  two  years  old,  I  stole  these  babes  ; 

Thinking  to  bar  thee  of  succession,  as 


"  Cymbeline?  333 

Thou  reft'st  me  of  my  lands.     Euriphile, 
Thou  wast  their  nurse ;  they  took  thee  for  their  mother, 
And  every  day  do  honour  to  her  grave.  [Exit. 

Act  III.  Scene  3. 

Imogen  next  appears  before  the  empty  cave,  disguised  in  boy's 
clothes,  travelling  in  search  of  the  port  of  Milford  Haven,  where 
the  letter  of  Leonatus  has  informed  her  she  will  find  him. 

Perceiving  the  cave,  she  enters  it;  but  no  sooner  has  she 
done  so  than  Belarius  and  the  two  brothers  return,  and  she  is 
discovered.  A  beautiful  scene  of  spontaneous  and  instinctive 
affection  between  Imogen  and  her  brothers  (though  all  uncon- 
scious of  their  kinship)  then  ensues,  and  she  consents,  for  the 
while,  to  remain  under  their  protection,  reporting  herself  to  be  a 
page,  and  giving  her  name  as  Fidele. 

She  is  pursued  sharply  by  the  ruffian  Cloten,  who  traces  her 
to  the  neighbourhood.  Unluckily  for  himself,  however,  Cloten 
falls  in  with  Guiderius,  and,  being  insolent,  a  quarrel  ensues,  in 
which  Cloten  is  slain. 

Enter  GUIDEEIUS  with  CLOTEN'S  head. 
GUI.     This  Cloten  was  a  fool ;  an  empty  purse, 

There  was  no  money  in't :  not  Hercules 

Could  have  knock'd  out  his  hrains,  for  he  had  none : 

Yet  I  not  doing  this,  the  fool  had  borne 

My  head,  as  I  do  his. 

BEL.  What  hast  thou  done  ? 

GUI.     I  am  perfect,  what :  cut  off  one  Cloten's  head, 

Son  to  the  queen,  after  his  own  report ; 

Who  call'd  me  traitor,  mountaineer ;  and  swore, 

With  his -own  single  hand  he'd  take  us  in, 

Displace  our  heads,  where  (thank  the  gods  !)  they  grow, 

And  set  them  on  Lud's  town. 

BEL.  We  are  all  undone. 

GUI.     Why,  worthy  father,  what  have  we  to  lose, 

But,  that  he  swore  to  take  our  lives  ?     The  law 

Protects  not  us  :  Then  why  should  we  be  tender, 

To  let  an  arrogant  piece  of  flesh  threat  us  ; 

Play  judge,  and  executioner,  all  himself. 

Act  IV.  Scene  2. 

The  young  men  then  retire,  whereupon  Belarius  again  solilo- 
quizes : — 

BEL.  0  thou  goddess, 

Thou  divine  Nature,  how  thyself  thou  blazon'st, 


334  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

In  these  two  princely  boys  !    They  are  as  gentle 
As  zephyrs,  blowing  below  the  violet, 
Not  wagging  his  sweet  head  :  and  yet  as  rough, 
Their  royal  Hood  enchafed,  as  the  rud'st  wind, 
That  by  the  top  doth  take  the  mountain  pine, 
And  make  him  stoop  to  the  vale.     'Tis  wonderful, 
That  an  invisible  instinct  should  frame  them 
To  royalty  unlearn  d  ;  honour  untaught ; 
Civility  not  seen  from  other :  valour, 
That  wildly  grows  in  them,  but  yields  a  crop 
As  if  it  had  been  sow'd !     Yet  still  it's  strange, 
What  Cloten's  being  here  to  us  portends ; 
Or  what  his  death  will  bring  us. 

Re-enter  GUIDEEIUS. 
GUI.  Where's  my  brother  ? 

I  have  sent  Cloten's  clotpol  down  the  stream, 
In  embassy  to  his  mother  :  his  body's  hostage 
For  its  return. 

While  tliis  has  been  going  on,  Imogen,  being  weary  at  heart, 
has  drank  a  potion  perfidiously  given  to  her  by  the  queen,  but 
which,  though  meant  by  the  latter  to  be  a  poison,  turns  out 
to  be  only  a  powerful  narcotic.  Its  real  faculty  was  to  produce 
a  trance,  which  simulated  death,  as  in  the  case  of  Juliet.  It 
had  this  effect  upon  Imogen,  who  is  found,  a  little  while  after- 
wards, by  Arviragus,  lying  apparently  dead  upon  the  sward. 

^Re-enter  AEVIEAGUS,  bearing  IMOGEN  as  dead. 
BEL.  Look,  here  he  comes, 

And  brings  the  dire  occasion  in  his  arms, 

Of  what  we  blame  him  for ! 
AEV.  The  bird  is  dead, 

That  we  have  made  so  much  on.     I  had  rather 

Have  skipp'd  from  sixteen  years  of  age  to  sixty, 

To  have  turn'd  my  leaping  time  into  a  crutch, 

Than  have  seen  this. 
GUI.  0  sweetest,  fairest  lily ! 

My  brother  wears  thee  not  one-half  so  well, 

As  when  thou  grew'st  thyself. 

*  *  * 

AEV.  With  fairest  flowers, 

Whilst  summer  lasts,  and  I  live  here,  Fidele, 
I'll  sweeten  thy  sad  grave :     Thou  shalt  not  lack 
The  flower,  that's  like  thy  face,  pale  primrose ;  nor 
The  azured  hare-bell,  like  thy  veins  ;  no,  nor 
The  leaf  of  Eglantine,  whom  not  to  slander, 
Out-sweeten'd  not  thy  breath  :  the  ruddock  would 


"  Cymbeline?  335 

With  charitable  bill  (0  bill,  sore-shaming 

Those  rich-left  heirs  that  let  their  fathers  lie 

Without  a  monument !)  bring  thee  all  this  ; 

Yea,  and  furr'd  moss  besides,  when  bowers  are  none, 

To  winter-ground  thy  corse. 
GUI.  Pr'ythee  have  done : 

And  do  not  play  in  wench-like  words  with  that 

Which  is  so  serious.     Let  us  bury  him, 

And  not  protract  with  admiration  what 

Is  now  due  debt.     To  the  grave. 

AEV.  Say,  where  shall's  lay  him? 

GUI.     By  good  Euriphile,  our  mother. 
AEV.  Be  it  so  : 

And  let  us,  Polydore,  though  now  our  voices 

Have  got  the  mannish  crack,  sing  him  to  the  ground, 

As  once  our  mother  ;  use  like  note,  and  words, 

Save  that  Euriphile  must  be  Fidele. 
GUI.     Cadwal, 

I  cannot  sing  :  I'll  weep,  and  word  it  with  thee  : 

For  notes  of  sorrow,  out  of  tune,  are  worse 

Than  priests  and  fanes  that  lie. 

Belarius,  hereupon,  seeing1  that  the  boys  are  about  to  bury 
Imogen  on  terms  of  equality  with  the  beheaded  prince,  inter- 
poses, and  volunteers  honours  to  the  dead  man's  rank,  in  the 
following  servile  manner : — 

BEL.     Great  griefs,  I  see,  medicine  the  less  :  for  Cloten 
Is  quite  forgot.     He  was  a  queen  s  son,  boys : 
And,  though  he  came  our  enemy,  remember, 
He  was  paid  for  that :  Though  mean  and  mighty,  rotting 
Together,  have  one  dust ;  yet  reverence, 
(That  angel  of  the  world),  doth  make  distinction 
Of  place  'tween  high  and  low.     Our  foe  was  princely  ; 
And  though  you  took  his  life,  as  being  our  foe, 
Yet  bury  him  as  a  prince. 

These  expressions  of  grovelling  homage  to  mere  rank,  in  the 
mouth  of  a  worthy  character  like  Belarius,  invested,  as  that  rank 
was,  in  the  body  of  an  utter  beast  and  ruffian,  as  the  speaker 
knew  Cloten  to  be,  show  an  extent  of  base  cringing  and  moral 
abasement  to  mere  worldly  station,  as  contrasted  with  the 
respect  due  that (<  pale  primrose  and  azured  hare-bell,  pure  Fidele," 
which  is  absolutely  painful.  It  is  the  very  worst  and  lowest 
specimen  of  the  abjectness  of  royal  worship  that  has  yet  appeared 
to  us  in  Shakespeare;  and  so  shocks  our  better  sentiments, 


336  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

that  we  can  hardly  refrain  from  hoping,  in  excuse,  that  the  poet 
was  well  paid  for  it. 

Indeed,  Guiderius  protests  against  the  old  man's  sentiments, 
by  saying  to  his  brother,  as  he  points  to  the  hulk  of  Cloten  : — 

Pray  you,  fetch  him  hither. 

Thersites'  body  is  as  good  as  Ajax, 

When  neither  is  alive. 
ABV.  If  you'll  go  fetch  him, 

We'll  say  our  song  the  whilst — Brother,  begin. 

[Exit  BELAEIUS. 
GUI.    Nay,  Cadwal,  we  must  lay  his  head  to  the  east ; 

My  father  hath  a  reason  for't. 
AEV.  'Tis  true. 

GUI.    Come  on  then,  and  remove  him. 

This  discrimination  in  favour  of  the  headless  trunk  of  Cloten 
is  all  the  more  offensive,  because  the  boys  had  thought  Fidele  to 
be  good  enough  to  lay  beside  their  (supposed)  mother,  Euriphile. 

The  illustrations  which  follow  bear  likewise  upon  Shakespeare's 
favourite  discrimination  against  a  common  person  for  a  lord. 
The  first  of  these  occurs  in  a  field  of  battle  in  Britain,  where 
Leonatus,  having  come  in  with  the  Roman  forces  from  Italy, 
changes  his  clothes  in  order  to  fight  for  his  country  : — 

Therefore,  good  heavens, 
Hear  patiently  my  purpose  ;  I'll  disrobe  me 
Of  these  Italian  weeds,  and  suit  myself 
As  does  a  Briton  peasant :  so  I'll  fight 
Against  the  part  I  come  with ;  so  I'll  die 
For  thee,  0  Imogen,  even  for  whom  my  life 
Is,  every  breath,  a  death  :  and  thus,  unknown, 
Pitied  nor  hated,  to  the  face  of  peril 
Myself  I'll  dedicate.     Let  me  make  men  Tcnoio 
More  valour  in  me  than  my  habits  show. 
Gods,  put  the  strength  o'  the  Leonati  in  me  ! 
To  shame  the  guise  o'  the  world,  I  will  begin 
The  fashion,  less  without,  and  more  within. 

Act  V.  Scene  1. 

In  the  following  scene  he  fights  in  the  thick  of  the  battle  with 
lachimo,  an  Italian  knight,  who  has  slandered  Imogen.  He 
disarms  and  leaves  him,  whereupon  lachimo  says, — 

The  heaviness  and  guilt  within  my  bosom 
Takes  off  my  manhood :  I  have  belied  a  lady, 
The  princess  of  this  country,  and  the  air  on't 


"  Cymbeline?  337 

Kevengingly  enfeebles  me  :   Or,  could  this  carl, 

A.  very  drudge  of  nature's,  have  subdued  me, 

In  my  profession  ?    Knighthoods  and  honours,  borne 

As  I  wear  mine,  are  titles  but  of  scorn. 

If  that  thy  gentry,  Britain,  go  before 

This  lout,  as  he  exceeds  our  lord,  the  odds 

Is  that  we  scarce  are  men,  and  you  are  gods. 

Belarius,  afterward,  in  relating  the  exploit  of  Leonatus  before 
the  court,  thus  extols  the  strange  courage  of  the  supposed  pea- 
sant : — 

BEL.  I  never  saw 

Such  noble  fury  in  so  poor  thing, 
Such  precious  deeds  in  one  that  promised  nought 
But  beggary  and  poor  looks. 

The  two  following  illustrations,  though  not  of  much  force, 
are  entitled  to  our  notice.  The  first  illustrates  the  religious 
point,  and  evinces  a  Catholic  doctrinal  abhorrence  of  suicide ;  the 
second  bears,  though  vaguely,  upon  the  question  of  relative  social 
estimation : — 

IMO.  Against  self-slaughter 

There  is  a  prohibition  so  divine 
That  cravens  my  weak  hand. 

Act  III.  Scene  4. 
*  *  • 

IMO.  Two  beggars  told  me 

I  could  not  miss  my  way :     Will  poor  folks  lie 

That  have  afflictions  on  them ;  knowing  't  is 

A  punishment  or  trial  ?    Yes  ;  no  wonder, 

When  rich"  ones  scarce  tell  true :  To  lapse  in  fulness 

Is  sorer  than  to  lie  for  need :  and  falsehood 

Is  worse  in  kings  than  beggars. 

Dr.  Johnson,  in  speaking  of  this  play,  remarks  that  "  it  has 
many  just  sentiments,  some  natural  dialogues,  and  some  pleasing 
scenes;"  but  adds,  "they  are  obtained  at  the  expense  of  much 
incongruity.  To  remark  the  folly  of  the  fiction,  the  absurdity  of 
the  conduct,  the  confusion  of  the  names  and  manners  of  different 
times,  and  the  impossibility  of  the  events  in  any  system  of  life, 
were  to  waste  criticism  upon  unresisting  imbecility,  upon  faults 
too  evident  for  detection,  and  too  gross  for  aggravation// 

Dr.  Drake  protests  against  the  enormous  injustice  of  the  above 
paragraph  by  the  egotistical  leviathan,  declaring  very  correctly 


338  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View* 

that  "nearly  every  page  of '  Cymbeline'  will,  to  a  reader  of  any 
taste  or  discrimination,  bring  the  most  decisive  evidence."  In 
connexion  with  this  vindication,  however,  Drake  is  forced  to 
•  admit  "  that  (  Cymbeline '  possesses  many  of  the  too  common 
inattentions  of  Shakespeare ;  that  it  exhibits  a  frequent  violation 
as  to  costume,  and  a  singular  confusion  of  nomenclature,  cannot 
be  denied ;  but  these,*''  says  he,  "  are  trifles  light  as  air  when 
contrasted  with  merits  which  are  of  the  very  essence  of  dramatic 
worth,  rich  and  full  in  all  that  breathes  of  vigour,  animation,  and 
intellect." 

These  observations  by  both  Johnson  and  Drake  of  the  incon- 
gruities of  the  piece  as  to  time,  manners,  and  costumes,  and, 
moreover,  the  fact  mentioned  by  Harness,  that  the  poet  has 
peopled  his  Rome  with  modern  Italians,  must  all  be  considered 
as  decisive  against  the  presumed  authorship  by  Bacon,  for  Sir 
Francis  had  travelled  in  Italy,  and  knew  better ;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  they  are  just  such  errors  as  might  easily  have  been 
fallen  into  by  William  Shakespeare,  the  untravelled  London 
manager. 


"ROMEO  AND  JULIET." 

Knight,  in  presenting  this  tragedy,  in  his  last  edition  of  the 
plays  of  our  poet,  states  that  it  was  first  printed  in  the  year 
1597.  The  second  edition  was  printed  in  1599,  and  the  title 
to  that  edition  declared  it  to  be  "  newly  corrected,  augmented, 
and  amended."  "There  can  be  no  doubt  whatever,"  he  says, 
"that  the  corrections,  augmentations,  and  emendations  were 
those  of  the  author."  And  he  adds,  that  "  we  know  nothing  in 
literary  history  more  curious  or  more  instructive  than  the  example 
of  minute  attention,  as  well  as  consummate  skill,  exhibited  by 
Shakespeare  in  correcting,  augmenting,  and  amending  the  first 
copy  of  this  play."  This  view  of  Knight's  is,  however,  in  oppo- 
sition to  the  general  opinion  that  Shakespeare  rarely  and  never 
carefully  prepared  any  of  his  plays  for  print. 

"  The  story  of  it,"  says  Hunter,  "  appears  in  a  history  of  Verona, 
comparatively  modern,  and  certainly  not  written  until  after  the 
tale  had  appeared  in  the  romance  writers.  They  now  show  at 
Verona  a  cistus  which  they  call  the  tomb  of  Juliet."  To  this 


"  Romeo  and  Juliet'1  339 

testimony  of  Hunter  I  can  add,  on  my  own  part,  that  during  a 
visit  to  Verona  in  1870, 1  was  shown  the  house  in  which  tradition 
reported  Juliet  had  lived,  and  the  garden  wall  over  which  it  was 
said  Romeo  had  leaped.  This  pleasant  illusion  is  a  never-failing 
resource  with  the  local  guides  for  the  shillings  and  sixpences  of 
English  and  American  travellers. 

"  No  play  of  Shakespeare's,"  continues  Hunter,  f{  has  been, 
from  the  first,  more  popular  than  this — perhaps  none  so  popular. 
The  interest  of  the  story,  the  variety  of  the  characters,  the  appeals 
to  the  hearts  of  all  beholders,  the  abundance  of  what  may  be 
called  episodical  passages  of  singular  beauty,  such  as  Queen  Mab, 
the  Friar's  husbandry,  the  starved  Apothecary,  and  the  gems  of 
the  purest  poetry,  which  are  scattered  in  rich  abundance — these 
all  concur  to  make  it  the  delight  of  the  many,  as  it  is  also  a 
favourite  study  for  the  few.  But  so  tragical  a  story  ministers  to 
a  depraved  appetite  in  the  many.  The  mass  of  Englishmen  love 
scenes  of  horror,  whether  in  reality  or  in  the  mimic  representa- 
tions on  the  stage.  Shakespeare  seems  to  have  understood  this,  and, 
both  here  and  in  Hamlet,  he  leaves  scarcely  any  one  alive.  Even 
the  insignificant  Benvolio  is  not  permitted  to  live  out  the  story. 
It  would  be  profanation,  however,  to  believe  that  this  has  been  a 
principal  cause  of  the  extreme  popularity  of  '  Komeo  and  Juliet/ 
which  began  in  the  author's  own  time,  and  is  continued  in  ours." 

The  evidences  in  this  play  which  will  most  interest  us  are  those 
bearing  upon  the  fact  that  Shakespeare's  mind  was  thoroughly 
imbued  with  the  Roman  Catholic  faith.  We  find  several  indica- 
tions of  this  in  the  great  reverence  with  which  he  always  speaks 
of  Friar  Laurence,  and  of  the  holy  or  mother  church,  through 
the  mouths  of  Romeo,  Paris,  Juliet,  and  Lady  Capulet.  Also 
through  the  auxiliary  facts  which  paint  the  friar,  unlucky  as  he 
was,  as  the  most  elevated  and  estimable  of  the  dramatis  persona. 

The  first  evidence  we  get  of  this  religious  tendency  is  in  the 
lines  where  Romeo  decides  to  ask  the  friar  to  marry  him  to 
Juliet  :— 

Hence  will  I  to  my  ghostly  friar's  close  cell, 
His  help  to  crave  and  my  dear  hope  to  tell. 

The  friar,  however,  who  knows  Romeo  to  have  been  a  desperate 
young  rake,  rebukes  him  with  a  reference  to  Rosaline,  a  nymph 
with  whom  he  had  been  giddily  enamoured : — 


340  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Be  plain,  good  son,  and  homely  in  thy  drift, 
Riddling  confession  finds  but  riddling  shrifb. 

Every  indication  in  this  and  subsequent  conversations  of  the 
various  characters  who  come  in  contact  with  Friar  Laurence, 
show  that  Shakespeare  was  fully  impressed  with  the  Roman 
Catholic  idea  that  marriage  was  a  sacrament,  and  not  a  mere 
civil  contract.  Romeo  says  to  the  Nurse  in  the  second  act, — 

Bid  her  devise  some  means  to  come  to  shrifb 
This  afternoon ; 

And  there  shall  she  at  Friar  Laurence'  cell 
Be  shrived  and  married. 

In  Scene  6  of  the  same  act*  when  the  marriage  takes  place, 
the  friar  says, — 

So  smile  the  heavens  upon  this  holy  act, 
That  after  hours  with  sorrow  chide  us  not. 

To  which  Romeo  answers, — 

Amen,  amen ! 

Do  thou  but  close  our  hands  with  holy  words. 
FBI.     Come,  come  with  me,  and  we  will  make  short  work ; 
For,  by  your  leaves,  you  shall  not  stay  alone, 
Till  holy  church  incorporate  two  in  one. 

In  the  next  act  the  friar  rebukes  Romeo  for  his  intention  of 
committing  suicide,  by  reminding  him  of  the  Catholic  canon 
against  self-slaughter: — 

I  thought  thy  disposition  better  temper'd 
Hast  thou  slain  Tybalt?  wilt  thou  slay  thyself? 
And  slay  the  lady  that  in  thy  life  lives, 
By  doing  damned  hate  upon  thyself. 

The  friar,  being  relieved  by  the  nuptial  ceremony  from  his  con- 
cern about  leaving  the  imprudent  young  couple  together,  now 
seems  rather  to  urge  the  legal  consummation  of  the  marriage : — 

Go,  get  thee  to  thy  love,  as  was  decreed, 
Ascend  her  chamber  hence,  and  comfort  her. 

But  the  expression  which  has  given  rise  to  more  controversy 
than  any  other  on  the  subject  of  Shakespeare's  religious  faith 
occurs  in  Act  IV.  Scene  1,  where  Juliet,  under  the  coercion  of 
her  mother,  and  after  her  secret  marriage  with  Romeo,  accom- 


"  Romeo  and  Juliet?  341 

panics  Paris  to  the  friar's  cell,  as  a  preliminary  to  her  new  nuptials 
with  that  gentleman.     The  expression  is, — 

JUL.    Are  you  at  leisure,  holy  father,  now ; 

Or  shall  I  come  to  you  at  evening  mass  ? 
FBI".     My  leisure  serves  me,  pensive  daughter,  now : 

My  lord,  we  must  entreat  the  time  alone. 

Now,,  it  is  claimed,  as  we  have  already  seen,  that  the  use  of 
the  term  "  evening  mass"  shows  Shakespeare  to  have  been  igno- 
rant of  the  Catholic  religion,  and  in  support  of  this  idea  the 
German  critic,  H.  Von  Friesen,  plausibly  remarks  "that  no 
Catholic  wrjter  could  have  spoken  of  evening  mass,  inasmuch  as 
mass  is  essentially  a  morning  rite."  Staunton  had  previously 
noticed  the  same  difficulty,4  but  the  word  mass  in  this  passage 
is  explained  by  Clarke  as  meaning  generally — service,  office,  or 
prayer.  Grant  White,  adopting  in  full  the  English  Protestant 
view,  observes,  "  If  Shakespeare  became  a  member  of  the  Church 
of  Rome,  it  must  have  been  after  he  wrote  '  Romeo  and  Juliet/ 
in  which  he  speaks  of  evening  mass ;  for  the  humblest  member 
of  that  Church  knows  that  there  is  no  mass  at  vespers." 

My  conclusions  run  the  other  way,  and  are  in  favour  of  our 
poet's  correctness  in  his  use  of  the  disputed  phrase.  But  for  the 
full  discussion  of  this  apparent  incongruity  I  will  refer  the  reader 
back  to  pages  43,  -16,  47,  48,  and  49,  in  the  first  division  of  this 
work,  as  a  proper  portion  of  this  chapter.  For  further  and 
authoritative  information  going  to  show  that  Shakespeare  was 
correct  in  his  use  of  the  term  fc  evening  mass,"  I  would  advise 
the  reader  to  consult  Duras's  ' '  Universal  History  of  the  Church," 
at  pp.  96,  104,  197,  277,  280,  540,  and  627  of  vol.  i.,  and 
pp.  74,  271,  and  283  of  vol.  ii.  Also  to  see  the  "  History  of  the 
Franciscans,  and  Lives  of  the  Saints,"  published  at  Albany  by 
Baxter  and  Co. ;  also  "  Lives  of  the  English  Martyrs,"  pub- 
lished by  the  Catholic  Publication  Society  of  New  York ;  and 
Father  O'Reilly's  article  on  Mass  in  "  Appleton's  Encyclopedia." 

The  character  of  the  Nurse  in  "  Romeo  and  Juliet "  is  also 
essentially  Catholic.  Who  but  a  Catholic,  or,  at  the  least,  one 
accustomed  to  live  amongst  Catholics,  could  have  drawn  this  ex- 
traordinary creation,  which  bears  so  much  resemblance  to  the  old 

\ 

4  See  note  in  Dowden's  "  Shakespeare's  Mind  and  Art,"  at  page  39. 
23 


34 2  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Irish  nurses  and  servants  of  our  own  time,  with  their  "  God  rest 
her  soul/'  "God  give  her  peace/'  &c.  In  the  first  act  the 
Nurse  says,  when  describing  the  childhood  of  Juliet  to  her  mother, 
Lady  Capulet, — 

Even  and  odd,  of  all  days  in  the  year, 
Come  Lammas  eve  at  night,  shall  she  be  fourteen ; 
Susan  and  she — G-od  rest  all  Christian  souls  ! 
"Were  of  an  age. — Well,  Susan  is  with  God. 
She  was  too  good  for  me. 

How  very  Catholic  all  this  is !  I  cannot  help  believing  that  the 
original  of  this  character  must  have  been  some  old  Catholic 
woman  of  Stratford,  perhaps  an  aunt  of  the  poet,  or  some 
venerable  crone  who  h.eld  to  the  old  faith,  and  was  the  friend  of 
his  youth. 

A  little  further  on  the  Nurse  says, — 

And  then  my  husband — God  be  with  his  soul ! 

exactly  as  our  Bridgets  and  Norahs  would  speak  of  their  dead 
spouses  to-day. 

The  ball-room  scene  contains  many  very  Catholic  allusions, 
amongst  the  most  striking  of  which  are  the  following : — 

BOM.     If  I  profane  with  my  unworthy  hand 

This  holy  shrine,  the  gentle  fine  is  this, — 

My  lips,  two  blushing  pilgrims  ready  stand 

To  smooth  that  rough  touch  with  a  tender  kiss. 
JUL.       Good  pilgrim,  you  do  wrong  your  hand  too  much 

Which  mannerly  devotion  shows  in  this, 

For  saints  have  hands  that  pilgrims  hands  do  touch5 

And  palm  to  palm  is  holy  palmer's  kiss. 
EOM.     Have  not  saints  lips  and  holy  palmers  too  ? 
JUL.       Ay  !  pilgrim,  lips  that  they  must  use  in  prayer. 
ROM.     0,  then,  dear  saint,  let  lips  do  what  hands  do ; 

They  pray,  grant  thou,  lest  faith  turn  to  despair. 
JUL.       Saints  do  not  move,  though  grant  for  prayer's  sake. 
ROM.     Then  move  not,  while  my  prayer's  effect  I  take. 

Thus  from  my  lips,  by  yours,  my  sin  is  purged.    [JBTe  Jcisses  her, 
JUL.       Then  have  my  lips  the  sin  that  they  have  took. 

5  An  evident  allusion  to  the  sacred  relics  and  to  the  wax  figures  cover- 
ing the  bones  of  saints,  which  are  still  kissed  by  the  Catholic  pilgrims, 
who  are  now  flocking  by  hundreds  of  thousands  to  Lourdes,  to  Paray-le- 
Monial,  and  to  other  like  religious  places. 


"  Romeo  and  Juliet''  343 

The  last  few  lines  are  singularly  Catholic,  for  all  impurity  of 
thoughts  or  looks  even,  are  rigorously  condemned  by  father  con- 
fessors, on  the  principle  that  the  mere  desire  of  .love,  is  as  bad  as 
the  actual  sin,  unless  it  be  consecrated  in  wedlock.  Juliet's 
declaration  in  the  balcony  scene,  is  in  full  religious  agreement 
with  the  rest : — 

Three  words,  dear  Eomeo,  and  good  night,  indeed. 

If  that  thy  bent  of  love  be  honourable, 

Thy  purpose  marriage,  send  me  word  to-morrow, 

By  one  I  will  procure  to  come  to  thee, 

Where  and  what  time  thou  wilt  perform  the  rite. 

Juliet  evidently  considers  that  despair  and  death  are  preferable 
to  dishonour,  and  her  subsequent  noble  speeches  concerning  her 
duties  as  "  a  true  wife  to  her  true  lord/'  are  singularly  Catholic 
in  tone,  for,  whatever  may  be  the  faults  of  the  Romish  Church, 
it  must  be  cheerfully  admitted  that  it  has  always  upheld  the 
sanctity  of  matrimony  in  the  most  uncompromising  manner. 

Romeo  also  is  a  thorough  Catholic,  and  his  evident  confidence 
in  his  father  confessor  is  expressed  in  the  lines  already  quoted  : — 

Hence  will  I  to  my  ghostly  father's  cell, 
His  help  to  crave,  and  my  dear  hap  to  tell. 

Mark,  also,  that  Father  Laurence  is  well  aware  of  the  previous 
attachment  which  existed  between  Romeo  and  Rosaline,  a  fact 
from  which  we  may  conclude  that  young  Romeo  had  been  a 
very  regular  attendant  at  the  worthy  monk's  confessional. 
But  I  might  quote  evidences  of  Shakespeare's  intimacy  with 
Catholic  ideas,  rites,  ceremonies,  and  customs,  from  almost  every 
scene  in  this  play,  which,  as  I  have  before  said,  is  essentially 
Catholic  from  first  to  last.  I  will  conclude  this  chapter  with  the 
following  beautiful  and  noble  speech  of  Friar  Laurence,  who, 
by  the  way,  is  the  beau  ideal  of  a  Catholic  priest,  from  the 
fifth  scene  of  the  fourth  act : — 

Heaven  and  yourself 

Had  part  in  this  fair  maid ;  now  heaven  hath  all, 
And  all  the  better  is  it  for  the  maid ; 
Your  part  in  her  you  could  not  keep  from  death ; 
But  heaven  keeps  his  part  in  eternal  life. 
The  most  you  sought  was— her  promotion ; 
For  'twas  your  heaven,  she  should  be  advanced, 
And  weep  ye  now  seeing  she  is  advanced 
Above  the  clouds,  as  high  as  heaven  itself? 


344  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

O,  in  this  love,  you  love  your  child  so  ill, 
That  you  run  inad,  seeing  that  she  is  well. 

*  *  * 

Dry  up  your  tears,  and  stick  your  rosemary 
On  this  fair  corse  ;  and,  as  the  custom  is, 
In  all  her  best  array  bear  her  to  church. 


SHAKESPEARE'S  LEGAL  ACQUIREMENTS. 

The  evidences  which  Lord  Campbell  finds  in"  Romeo  and  Juliet" 
of  Shakespeare's  legal  acquirements,  are  neither  numerous  nor, 
as  it  seems  to  me,  are  they  very  weighty.  His  lordship,  how- 
ever, is  evidently  of  a  different  opinion.  Says  his  lordship, — 

"  The  first  scene  of  this  romantic  drama,  may  be  studied  by 
a  student  of  the  Inns  of  Court  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  the 
law  of  '  assault  and  battery/  and  what  will  amount  to  a  justi- 
fication. Although  Samson  exclaims,  *  My  naked  weapon  is  out : 
quarrel,  I  will  back  thee ; '  he  adds,  '  Let  us  take  the  law  of  our 
sides ;  let  them  begin/  Then  we  learn  that  neither  frowning  nor 
biting  the  thumb,  nor  answering  to  a  question,  f  Do  you  bite  your 
thumb  at  us,  sir?'  '  I  do  bite  my  thumb,  sir/  would  be  enough 
to  support  the  plea  of  se  defendendo. 

"The  scene  ends  with  old  Montagu  and  old  Capulet  being 
bound  over,  in  the  English  fashion,  to  keep  the  peace, — in  the 
same  manner  as  two  Warwickshire  clowns,  who  had  been  fight- 
ing, might  have  been  dealt  with  at  Charlecote  before  Sir  Thomas 
Lucy. 

"  The  only  other  scene  in  this  play  I  have  marked  to  be  noticed 
for  the  use  of  law  terms,  is  that  between  Mercutio  and  Ben- 
volio,  in  which  they  keenly  dispute  which  of  the  two  is  the  more 
quarrelsome ; — at  last  Benvolio — not  denying  that  he  had  quar- 
relled with  a  man  for  coughing  in  the  street,  whereby  he  wakened 
Benvolio's  dog,  that  lay  asleep  in  the  sun — or  that  he  had  quar- 
relled with  another  for  tying  his  new  shoes  with  an  old  riband, 
— contents  himself  with  this  tu  quoque  answer  to  Mercutio  : — 

An  I  were  so  apt  to  quarrel  as  thou  art,  any  man  should  buy  the  fee- 
simple  of  my  life  for  an  hour  and  a  quarter. — Act  III.  Scene  1. 

"Talking  of  fas  fee-simple  of  a  man's  life,  and  calculating  how 
many  hours'  purchase  it  was  worth,  is  certainly  what  might  not 
unnaturally  be  expected  from  the  clerk  of  a  country  attorney." 


Julius  C&sar,"  345 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

"JULIUS  CAESAR." 

THE  tragedy  of  "  Julius  Caesar "  presents  the  first  challenge  to 
that  portion  of  my  theme,  which  declares  we  cannot  find  in 
all  of  Shakespeare's  dramas  one  single  aspiration  in  favour  of 
human  liberty ;  for  the  patriotic  part  of  Brutus,  with  its  splendid 
invocation  of  the  Roman  conspirators  to  "Peace,  Freedom,  and 
Liberty  /'  seems  to  be  in  direct  conflict  with  my  theory. 

"  Julius  Csesar "  belongs  to  what  are  known  as  the  three 
Roman  plays,  the  first  of  which  is  "  Coriolanus,"  and  the  last, 
"  Antony  and  Cleopatra/''  I  have  transposed  the  order  of  the  two 
first,  however,  for  greater  convenience  in  the  presentation  of  our 
case.  None  of  these  plays  appeared  in  print  until  after  Shake- 
speare's death  (folio  of  1623),  but  they  are  generally  supposed 
to  have  been  produced  in  1607,  1608,  1609,  though  Furnival's 
Table  credits  the  production  of  "  Julius  Csesar  "  to  a  period  as 
early  as  1601-3.  The  strongest  probability  is,  therefore,  that  it 
belongs  to  that  period  of  our  poet's  powers,  which  began  soon 
after  the  opening  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  shared  the 
supreme  honours  of  his  mind  with  "Macbeth/7  "Troilus," 
"  Othello/'  "  Lear,"  and  "  Hamlet/' 

Shakespeare  is  entirely  indebted  for  the  story  of  "Julius 
Csesar"  to  a  translation  from  Plutarch,  made  by  Sir  Thomas 
North  in  1579,  and  so  faithfully  has  he  followed  this  historical 
outline,  that  in  portions  of  the  play  our  poet  seems  almost  to 
have  copied  from  North's  text.  It  is  observable,  however,  that  he 
has  moulded  his  characters  somewhat  differently  from  Plutarch's 
models,  and  most  notably  has  done  so  in  the  case  of  Brutus,  to 
whom  he  has  imparted  a  transcendant  loftiness  of  sentiment, 
which  history  has  not  entirely  accorded  to  him.1  In  speaking  of 

1  North  says,  "  Cassius  was  a  cholericke  man,  and  hating  Csesar  privately, 
he  incensed  Brutus  against  him The  friends  and  countrimen  of 


346  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

this  figure  of  the  play,  a  commentator,  whose  name  I  cannot  give 
because  the  volume  from  which  I  quote  has  lost  its  title-page,  aptly 
says,  that  f(  Shakespeare  doubtless  intended  to  make  Brutus  his 
hero ;  he  has  therefore  exalted  his  character  and  suppressed  his 
defects.  Public  duty  has  been  assigned,  both  by  the  poet  and 
the  historian  as  the  motive  of  Brutus  for  joining  in  the  conspi- 
racy; but  particulars  are  added  by  the  former,  which  give  an 
amiableness  to  his  character  that  we  should  vainly  look  for  in 
Plutarch.  The  obligations  of  Brutus  to  Caesar  are  but  slightly 
noticed ;  it  would  have  defeated  the  dramatist's  purpose  of  raising 
him  in  our  esteem."  "  The  great  honours  and  favour  Csesar 
showed  unto  Brutus,"  says  North,  "  kept  him  backe,  that  of  him- 
self alone  he  did  not  conspire  nor  consent  to  depose  him  of  his 
kingdome.  For  Csesar  did  not  only  save  his  life  after  the  battle 
of  Pharsalia,  when  Pompey  fled,  and  did,  at  his  request  also,  save 
many  more  of  his  friends  besides ;  but  furthermore,  he  put  a  mar- 
vellous confidence  in  him."  Moreover,  Csesar  had  some  reason 
to  believe  that  Brutus  was  his  son.3 

Now,  in  order  to  ascertain  what  kind  of  a  patriot  Brutus  was, 
I  will  refer,  as  briefly  as  possible,  to  what  is  received,  on  all 

Brutus,  both  by  divers  procurements  and  sundrie  rumours  of  the  citie,  and  by 
many  bills  also,  did  openly  call  and  procure  him  to  do  that  he  did.  Now 
when  Cassius  felt  his  friends,  and  did  stir  them  up  against  Csesar,  they  all 
agreed,  and  promised  to  take  part  with  him,  so  Brutus  were  the  chiefe  of 
their  conspiracie.  They  told  him,  that  so  high  an  enterprise  and  attempt  as 
that,  did  not  so  much  require  men  of  manhood  and  courage  to  draw  their 
swords,  as  it  stood  them  upon  to  have  a  man  of  such  estimation  as  Brutus, 
to  make  every  man  boldly  thinke,  that  by  his  onely  presence  the  fact  were 
holy  and  just.  If  he  tooke  not  this  course,  then  that  they  should  go  to  it 
with  fainter  hearts ;  and  when  they  had  done  it,  they  should  be  more  fearfull, 
because  every  man  would  thinke  that  Brutus  would  not  have  refused  to  have 
made  one  with  them,  if  the  cause  had  been  good  and  honest.  Therefore 
Cassius,  considering  this  matter  with  himselfe,  did  first  of  all  speake  to 
Brutus." 

2  Plutarch,  in  his  "  Life  of  Marcus  Brutus,"  distinctly  states  that  Caesar 
"  had  good  reason  to  believe  Brutus  to  be  his  son,  by  Servillia."  Suetonius, 
in  his  "  Lives  of  the  Twelve  Caesars,"  confirms  this  statement,  and  adds  to 
the  Shakespearian  words  of  the  dying  Csesar,  thus :  "  And  thou,  too,  oh, 
Brutus,  my  son  !  "  According  to  Dio  Cassius  he  cried  out,  "  You,  too,  Brutus, 
my  son  ? "  If  he  did  use  the  expression,  it  may  have  meant  more  than  a 
mere  term  of  affection,  for  scandal  declared  that  Brutus  was  his  son,  the  fruit 
of  an  amour  between  his  mother  Servillia  and  Csesar. — Forsy th's  "  Cicero," 
p.  419  ;  London,  1869. 


"  Julius  Cczsar"  347 

sides,  as  reliable  history  about  Caesar  and  his  times ;  and  I  pray 
it  may  be  understood,  at  the  beginning,  that  I  do  not  mean  to 
dispute,  or  in  the  slightest  degree  to  undervalue  the  sincerity, 
and  even  loftiness  of  Brutus'  patriotism,  because  his  sympathies 
were  not  with  the  so-called  common  people;  for  undoubtedly 
a  man  may  love  his  country  equally  under  a  belief  in  monarchy 
or  oligarchy,  with  one  who  is  a  patriot  according  to  the 
democratic  ideal.  But  the  observation  which  I  make,  from  the 
"  American  point  of  view/'  is,  that  the  character  and  sentiments 
of  Brutus  do  not  infringe  my  theory,  or  relieve  William  Shake- 
speare from  the  charge  of  never  sympathizing  with  the  working 
classes,  or  with  general  political  liberty.  In  short,  the  text  of 
this  play  will  show  that  Brutus  was  as  unbending  an  aristocrat 
as  Coriolanus,  and  that  the  only  liberty  for  which  he  bathed  his 
arms  in  the  blood  of  his  best  friend  was,  the  liberty  of  retaining 
the  government,  falsely  named  a  Republic,  in  the  hands  of  the 
Patricians  or  slave-owners,  simply  because  he  did  not  wish  the 
importance  of  the  Patrician  class  should  be  reduced  by  the  supreme 
authority  of  a  king.  Brutus,  doubtless,  believed  that  the 
oligarchical  and  slave-holding  form  of  government  was  the  best 
form  for  the  welfare  of  his  country,  but  William  Shakespeare 
wrote  under  a  later  and  more  beneficent  experience,  and  he 
should  have  sympathized  with  the  bondage  and  sufferings  of  the 
poor.  The  detestation  of  Coriolanus  for  Rome's  "  woolen  slaves" 
and  "base  mechanics'"*  was  not  a  whit  softened,  however,  by 
Shakespeare,  toward  Jack  Cade  and  his  brave  followers,  of  the 
fifteenth  century.  It  is  very  strange,  therefore,  that  our  poet, 
while  writing  under  the  light  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  of 
the  liberty  which  was  dawning  upon  his  own  times,  could  never 
find  one  impulse  in  his  heart  to  celebrate  the  march  of  Mercy. 

In  the  period  of  Coriolanus,  whom  he  honours  with  the  entire 
weight  of  his  admiration,  the  following  is  described  by  a  historian 
of  authority  as  the  political  and  social  condition  of  the  Republic 
of  Rome  : 3 — 

"  The  history  of  Rome  during  this  period  is  one  of  great* 
interest.  The  Patricians  and  Plebeians  formed  two  distinct 
orders  in  the  State.  After  the  banishment  of  the  kings,  the 

8  "  History  of  Rome,"  by  William  Smith,  LL.D.     Harper  and  Brothers, 

New  York,  1875. 


34 8  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Patricians  retained  exclusive  possession  of  political  power.  The 
Plebeians,  it  is  true,  could  vote  at  the  general  elections,  but,  as 
they  were  mostly  poor,  they  were  out-voted  by  the  Patricians 
and  their  clients.  The  consuls  and  other  magistrates  were  taken 
entirely  from  the  Patricians,  who  also  possessed  the  exclusive 
knowledge  and  administration  of  the  law.  In  one  word,  the 
Patricians  were  a  ruling  and  the  Plebeians  a  subject  class.  But 
this  was  not  all.  The  Patricians  formed  not  only  a  separate 
class,  but  a  separate  caste,  not  marrying  with  the  Plebeians,  and 
worshiping  the  gods  with  different  religious  rites.  If  a  Patrician 
man  married  a  Plebeian  wife,  or  a  Patrician  woman  a  Plebeian 
husband,  the  State  refused  to  recognize  the  marriage,  and  the 
offspring  was  treated  as  illegitimate. 

"  The  Plebeians  had  to  complain  not  only  of  political,  but  also 
of  private  wrongs.  The  law  of  debtor  and  creditor  was  very 
severe  at  Rome.  If  the  borrower  did  not  pay  the  money  by  the 
time  agreed  upon,  his  person  was  seized  by  .the  creditor,  and  he 
was  obliged  to  work  as  a  slave.  Nay,  in  certain  cases  he  might 
even  be  put  to  death  by  the  creditor;  and  if  there  were  more 
than  one,  his  body  might  be  cut  in  pieces  and  divided  among 
them.  The  whole  weight  of  this  oppressive  law  fell  upon  the 
Plebeians ;  and  what  rendered  the  case  still  harder  was,  that  they 
were  frequently  compelled,  through  no  fault  of  their  own,  to 
become  borrowers.  They  were  small  landholders,  living  by 
cultivating  the  soil  with  their  own  hands ;  but  as  they  had  to 
serve  in  the  army  without  pay,  they  had  no  means  of  engaging 
labourers  in  their  absence.  Hence,  on  their  return  home,  they 
were  left  without  the  means  of  subsistence  or  of  purchasing  seed 
for  the  next  crop,  and  consequently  borrowing  was  their  only 
resource. 

"  Another  circumstance  still  farther  aggravated  the  hardships 
of  the  Plebeians.  The  State  possessed  a  large  quantity  of  land 
called  Ager  Publicus,  or  the  '  Public  Land/  This  land  originally 
belonged  to  the  kings,  being  set  apart  for  their  support ;  and  it 
was  constantly  increased  by  conquest,  as  it  was  the  practice,  on 
the  subjugation  of  a  people,  to  deprive  them  of  a  certain  portion 
of  their  land.  This  public  land  was  let  by  the  State  subject  to 
a  rent  •  but  as  the  Patricians  possessed  the  political  power,  they 
divided  the  public  land  among  themselves,  and  paid  for  it  only 
a  nominal  rent.  Thus  the  Plebeians,  by  whose  blood  and  unpaid 


"  Julius  Ccesar"  349 

toil  much  of  this  land  had  been  won,  were  excluded  from  all 
participation  in  it." 

Reforms  were  made  from  time  to  time,  but  they  did  not  confer 
upon  the  Plebeians  any  substantial  liberties,  for  the  condition  of 
things  in  Rome,  even  three  hundred  years  later  than  the  time  of 
Coriolanus,  is  thus  described  by  the  same  author  : — 

"  Among  many  other  important  consequences  of  these  foreign 
wars,  two  exercised  an  especial  influence  upon  the  future  fate  of 
the  Republic.  The  nobles  became  enormously  rich,  and  the 
peasant  proprietors  almost  entirely  disappeared.  The  wealthy 
nobles  now  combined  together  to  keep  in  their  own  families  the 
public  offices  of  the  State,  which  afforded  the  means  of  making 
such  enormous  fortunes.  Thus  a  new  nobility  was  formed, 
resting  on  wealth,  and  composed  alike  of  plebeian  and  patrician 
families.  Every  one  whose  ancestry  had  not  held  any  of  the 
curule  magistracies  was  called  a  New  Man,  and  was  branded  as 
an  upstart.  It  became  more  and  more  difficult  for  a  New  Man 
to  rise  to  office,  and  the  nobles  were  thus  almost  an  hereditary 
aristocracy  in  the  exclusive  possession  of  the  government.  The 
wealth  they  had  acquired  in  foreign  commands  enabled  them  not 
only  to  incur  a  prodigious  expense  in  the  celebration  of  the  public 
games  in  their  aedileship,,  with  the  view  of  gaining  the  votes  of 
the  people  at  future  elections,  but  also  to  spend  large  sums  of 
money  in  the  actual  purchase  of  votes.  The  first  law  against 
bribery  was  passed  in  181  before  Christ,  a  sure  proof  of  the 
growth  of  the  practice." 

Now,  this  was  th6  condition  of  things  which  Brutus  and 
Cassius  and  their  co-conspirators  combined  together  to  sustain. 
They  never  once  dreamt  of  enfranchising  their  bondsmen,  or 
of  enlarging  the  liberties  of  the  People.  Their  rebellion  against 
Caesar  was  just  such  a  selfish  and  aristocratic  revolt  as  that 
which,  in  later  days,  took  place  among  the  English  Barons 
against  King  John,  which  had  not  one  patriotic  motive  in  it. 
It  resulted,  long  afterward,  in  advantages  to  the  People,  it  is 
true,  but  it  did  not  contemplate  any,  at  the  time. 

Caesar,  with  his  large  and  liberal  nature,  his  mighty  courage, 
which  disdained  the  mean  calculations  of  conservativism,  and  his 
notoriously  kind  heart,  which  had  been  shown  in  his  pardon  and 
promotion  of  Brutus  after  the  battle  of  Pharsalia,  was  really  more 
disposed  to  popular  reforms  than  any  of  his  Patrician  contem- 


350  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

poraries.  His  broad  hand  had  been  stretched  out  frequently 
toward  the  poor ;  not  only  in  largesses  of  corn,  but  in  the  exten- 
sion of  their  privileges ;  and  he  kept  continually  making  inroads 
upon  the  power  of  the  Patricians,  by  way  of  bringing  the  People 
and  himself  nearer  to  each  other.  One  of  his  measures  to  this 
end,  was  the  frequent  increasing  of  the  number  of  Patrician 
families  from  the  general  mass  of  citizens;  another  was  the 
selection  of  the  two  powerful  officers,  entitled  j3Miles  Cereales, 
which  he  instituted  from  the  Plebeian  class  alone ; 4  and  a  third 
was  the  introduction  of  an  agrarian  law  for  a  division  among 
citizens  of  the  rich  Campanian  lands.  It  was  this  latter  law 
which,  more  than  any  other  measure,  alarmed  the  Patrician 
party.  The  bitterest  opposition  was  instituted  against  it. 
Nevertheless,  both  Pompey  and  Crassus,  on  the  other  hand, 
spoke  in  its  favour,  and  twenty  thousand  citizens,  including  a 
large  number  of  Pompey's  veterans,  were  benefited  and  politically 
"  enabled33  by  it.  In  addition  to  this,  Casar  instituted  laws,  during 
the  periods  of  his  several  dictatorships,  to  relieve  the  hardships 
of  debtors.  In  the  same  spirit  he  restored  all  exiles,  and,  next, 
conferredfull  citizenship  upon  the  Transpadani,  who  had  previously 
held  qualified  citizenship  only,  under  the  Latin  franchise.5  This 
man  was  so  large,  that  smaller  men,  like  Brutus  and  Cassius, 
and  Cinna,  and  Casca,  could  not  help  being  afraid  of  him ;  and 
their  revolt,  so  far  as  the  most  of  them  were  concerned,  proceeded 
either  from  motives  of  personal  hatred  or  political  jealousy. 
Certainly,  it  was  not  inspired  by  apprehension  of  his  personal 
tyranny,  for  Caesar  forgave  in  turn  almost  every  man  who  had 
been  his  enemy.  He  feared  nothing.  As  for  Brutus,  though  a 
man  of  high  courage  and  lofty  principle,  with  a  profound  love  of 
country,  he  was  a  sort  of  patriotic  Don  Quixote,  whom  the  more 
crafty  spirits  in  the  plot  against  Caesar's  life,  tricked  and  cajoled 
to  the  support  of  their  less  worthy  purpose.  With  this  analysis 
of  the  character  of  the  "  Freedom,  Liberty,  and  Enfranchise- 
ment," which  the  conspirators  invoked  when  they  struck  the 
foremost  man  of  all  the  world,  we  will  now  proceed  to  examine 
extracts  from  the  Shakespeare  text.  The  play  opens  with  a 
characteristic  illustration  of  the  author's  estimation  of  mechanics, 
citizens,  and  tradesmen  : — 

4  Niebuhr,  page  626.     James  "Walton,  London,  1870. 
6  Wm.  Smith's  Smaller  History,  p.  243. 


"  Juliiis  Ccesar"  351 

Act  I.  Scene  1. — Rome.    A  Street. 
Enter  FLAVIUS,  MAEULLTJS,  and  a  rabble  of  Citizens. 
FLAV.  Hence ;  home,  you  idle  creatures,  get  you  home ; 
Is  this  a  holiday  ?     What !  know  you  not, 
Being  mechanical,  you  ought  not  walk, 
Upon  a  labouring  day,  without  the  sign 
Of  your  profession? — Speak,  what  trade  art  thou  ? 

1  CIT.  Why,  sir,  a  carpenter. 

MAE.    Where  is  thy  leather  apron,  and  thy  rule  ? 

What  dost  thou  with  thy  best  apparel  on  ? — 
You,  sir  ;  what  trade  are  you  ? 

2  CIT.  Truly,  sir,  in  respect  of  a  fine  workman,  I  am  but,  as  you  would 
say,  a  cobbler. 

*  *  * 

FLAV.  But  wherefore  art  not  in  thy  shop  to-day  ? 

Why  dost  thou  lead  these  men  about  the  streets  ? 

2  CIT.  Truly,  sir,  to  wear  out  their  shoes,  to  get  myself  into  more  work. 
But,  indeed,  sir,  we  make  holiday,  to  see  Ca3sar,  and  to  rejoice  in  his 
triumph. 

*  *  * 

FLAT.  Go,  go,  good  countrymen,  and,  for  this  fault, 

Assemble  all  the  poor  men  of  your  sort ; 

Draw  them  to  Tyber  banks,  and  weep  your  tears 

Into  the  channel,  till  the  lowest  stream 

Do  kiss  the  most  exalted  shores  of  all.  [Exit  Citizens. 

[To  MAEULLUS.]  See,  whe'r  their  basest  metal  be  not  moved ; 

They  vanish  tongue-tied  in  their  guiltiness. 

Go  you  down  that  way  towards  the  Capitol ; 

This  way  will  I :  Disrobe  the  images, 

If  you  do  find  them  deck'd  with  ceremonies. 
MAE.  May  we  dc  so  ? 

You  know,  it  is  the  feast  of  Lupercal. 
FLAV.  It  is  no  matter ;  let  no  images 

Be  hung  with  Csesar's  trophies.     I'll  about, 

And  drive  away  the  vulgar  from  the  streets ; 

So  do  you  too,  where  you  perceive  them  thick. 

These  growing  feathers  pluck'd  from  CsBsar's  wing, 

Will  make  him  fly  an  ordinary  pitch ; 

Who  else  would  soar  above  the  view  of  men, 

And  keep  us  all  in  servile  fearfulness.  [Exeunt. 

At  the  opening  of  the  next  scene,  Csesar  appears  crossing  the 
stage  in  grand  triumphal  procession  towards  the  capital,  where 
the  experiment  of  playfully  offering  him  a  crown  is  to  be  per- 
formed by  Antony,  with  a  view  of  testing  the  temper  of  the 
people.  After  Csesar  and  his  train  go  by,  Brutus  and  Cassius 


352  Shakespeare }  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

remain.     The  artful  Cassius  then  begins  to  work  upon  the  mind 
of  his  susceptible  brother-in-law,  as  follows  : — 

CAS.     Brutus,  I  do  observe  you  now  of  late  ; 

I  have  not  from  your  eyes  that  gentleness, 

And  show  of  love,  as  I  was  wont  to  have  : 

You  bear  too  stubborn  and  too  strange  a  hand 

Over  your  friend  that  loves  you. 
BEU.  Cassius, 

Be  not  deceived  :  if  I  have  veil'd  iny  look, 

I  turn  the  trouble  of  my  countenance 

Merely  upon  myself.    Vexed  I  am 

Of  late  with  passions  of  some  difference, 

Conceptions  only  proper  to  myself, 

"Which  give  some  soil,  perhaps,  to  my  behaviours ; 

But  let  not  therefore  my  good  friends  be  grieved, 

(Among  which  number,  Cassius,  be  you  one,) 

Nor  construe  any  further  my  neglect, 

Than  that  poor  Brutus,  with  himself  at  war 

Forgets  the  shows  of  love  to  other  men. 
CAS.     Then,  Brutus,  I  have  much  mistook  your  passion ; 

By  means  whereof,  this  breast  of  mine  hath  buried 

Thoughts  of  great  value,  worthy  cogitations. 

Tell  me,  good  Brutus,  can  you  see  your  face  ? 
BEU.    No,  Cassius  ;  for  the  eye  sees  not  itself, 

But  by  reflection,  by  some  other  things. 
CAS.     'Tisjust; 

And  it  is  very  much  lamented,  Brutus, 

That  you  have  no  such  mirrors,  as  will  turn 

Your  hidden  worthiness  into  your  eye, 

That  you  might  see  your  shadow.     I  have  heard, 

Where  many  of  the  best  respect  in  Eome, 

(Except  immortal  Csesar)  speaking  of  Brutus, 

And  groaning  underneath  this  age's  yoke, 

Have  wish'd  that  noble  Brutus  had  his  eyes. 
BEU.    Into  what  dangers  would  you  lead  me,  Cassius, 

That  you  would  have  me  seek  into  myself 

For  that  which  is  not  in  me  ? 

*  *  * 

{Flourish  and  shout. 
BRU.    What  means  this  shouting  ?    I  do  fear,  the  people 

Choose  Csesar  for  their  king. 
CAS.  Ay,  do  you  fear  it  ? 

Then,  must  I  think  you  would  not  have  it  so. 
BEU.    I  would  not,  Cassius  ;  yet  I  love  him  well. 

But  wherefore  do  you  hold  me  here  so  long  ? 

What  is  it  that  you  would  impart  to  me  ? 


"Julius  Ccesar"  353 

If  it  be  aught  toward  the  general  good, 
Set  honour  in  one  eye,  and  death  i'  the  other, 
And  I  will  look  on  both  indifferently ; 
For,  let  the  gods  so  speed  me,  as  I  love 
The  name  of  honour  more  than  I  fear  death. 
*  *  * 

CAS.  (speaking  of  Ccesar).  Ye  gods,  it  doth  amaze  me, 

A  man  of  such  a  feeble  temper  should 

So  get  the  start  of  the  majestic  world, 

And  bear  the  palm  alone.  [Shout.    Flourish. 

BBU.  Another  general  shout ! 

I  dp  believe  that  these  applauses  are 

For  some  new  honours  that  are  heap'd  on  Csesar. 
CAS.    Why,  man,  he  doth  bestride  the  narrow  world, 

Like  a  Colossus  ;  and  we  petty  men 

Walk  under  his  huge  legs,  and  peep  about 

To  find  ourselves  dishonourable  graves. 

Men  at  some  time  are  masters  of  their  fates  : 

The  fault,  dear  Brutus,  is  not  in  our  stars, 

But  in  ourselves,  that  we  are  underlings. 

Brutus,  and  Csesar !  what  should  be  in  that  Csesar  ? 

Why  should  that  name  be  sounded  more  than  yours  P 

Write  them  together,  yours  is  as  fair  a  name ; 

Sound  them,  it  doth  become  the  mouth  as  well ; 

Weigh  them,  it  is  as  heavy ;  conjure  with  them, 

Brutus  will  start  a  spirit  as  soon  as  Csesar. 

Now,  in  the  names  of  all  the  gods  at  once, 

Upon  what  meat  doth  this  our  Csesar  feed, 

That  he  is  grown  so  great  ?     Age,  thou  art  shamed : 

Rome,  thou  hast  lost  the  breed  of  noble  bloods. 

When  went  there  by  an  age,  since  the  great  flood, 

But  it  wa's  famed  with  more  than  with  one  man  ? 

When  could  they  say,  till  now,  that  talk'd  of  Borne, 

That  her  wide  walls  encompass'd  but  one  man  ? 

Now  is  it  Eome  indeed,  and  room  enough, 

When  there  is  in  it  but  one  only  man. 

0  !  you  and  I  have  heard  our  fathers  say, 

There  was  a  Brutus  once,  that  would  have  brook 'd 
Th'  eternal  devil  to  keep  his  state  in  Eome, 
As  easily  as  a  king. 
BEU.  That  you  do  love  me,  I  am  nothing  jealous ; 

What  you  would  work  me  to,  I  have  some  aim ; 
How  I  have  thought  of  this,  and  of  these  times, 

1  shall  recount  hereafter :  for  this  present, 

I  would  not,  so  with  love  I  might  entreat  you, 
Be  any  farther  moved.    What  you  have  said, 
1  will  consider  :  what  you  have  to  say, 


354  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

I  will  with  patience  hear,  and  find  a  time 

Both  meet  to  hear,  and  answer,  such  high  things. 

Till  then,  my  noble  friend,  chew  upon  this  : 

Brutus  had  rather  be  a  villager, 

Than  to  repute  himself  a  son  of  Eome 

Under  such  hard  conditions,  as  this  time 

Is  like  to  lay  upon  us. 

CAS.  I  am  glad,  that  my  weak  words 

Have  struck  but  thus  much  show  of  fire  from  Brutus. 

Bxu.  The  games  are  done,  and  Caesar  is  returning. 
Re-enter  CJESAR,  and  his  Train. 

CAS.  As  they  pass  by  pluck  Casca  by  the  sleeve ; 
And  he  will,  after  his  sour  fashion,  tell  you 
What  hath  proceeded  worthy  note  to-day. 

BBU.  I  will  do  so : — But,  look  you,  Cassius, 

The  angry  spot  doth  glow  on  Caesar's  brow, 
And  all  the  rest  look  like  a  chidden  train : 
Calphurnia's  cheek  is  pale  ;  and  Cicero 
Looks  with  such  ferret  and  such  fiery  eyes, 
As  we  have  seen  him  in  the  Capitol, 
Being  cross'd  in  conference  by  some  senators. 

CAS.    Casca  will  tell  us  what  the  matter  is. 

C2ES.  Antonius. 

ANT.  Caesar. 

C.ES.    Let  me  have  men  about  me  that  are  fat ; 

Sleek-headed  men,  and  such  as  sleep  o'  nights  : 
Yond'  Cassius  has  a  lean  and  hungry  look ; 
He  thinks  too  much :  such  men  are  dangerous. 

ANT.  Fear  him  not,  Caesar,  he's  not  dangerous  ; 
He  is  a  noble  Roman,  and  well  given. 

C.ZES.    'Would  he  were  fatter : — But  I  fear  him  not : 
Yet  if  my  name  were  liable  to  fear, 
I  do  not  know  the  man  I  should  avoid 
So  soon  as  that  spare  Cassius.     He  reads  much ; 
He  is  a  great  observer,  and  he  looks 
Quite  through  the  deeds  of  men  :  he  loves  no  plays, 
As  thou  dost,  Antony ;  he  hears  no  music  : 
Seldom  he  smiles  ;  and  smiles  in  such  a  sort, 
As  if  he  mock'd  himself,  and  scorn'd  his  spirit 
That  could  be  moved  to  smile  at  anything. 
Such  men  as  he  be  never  at  heart's  ease, 
Whiles  they  behold  a  greater  than  themselves ; 
And  therefore  are  they  very  dangerous. 
1  rather  tell  thee  what  is  to  be  fear'd, 
Than  what  I  fear,  for  always  I  am  Caesar. 
Come  on  my  right  hand,  for  this  ear  is  deaf, 
And  tell  me  truly  what  tbou  think'st  of  him. 


"  Julius  Cczsar"  355 

Exeunt  C^JSAE  and  his  Train.     CASCA  stays  behind. 

CASCA.  You  pull'd  me  by  the  cloak ;  Would  you  speak  with  me  ? 

BRU.  Ay,  Casca  ;  tell  us  what  hath  chanced  to-day, 
That  Caesar  looks  so  sad  ? 

CASCA.  Why  you  were  with  him,  were  you  not  ? 

BRU.  I  should  not  then  ask  Casca  what  hath  chanced. 

CASCA.  Why,  there  was  a  crown  offered  him  :  and  being  offered  him,  he 
put  it  by  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  thus  ;  and  then  the  people  fell  a'  shouting. 

BRU.  What  was  the  second  noise  for  ? 

CASCA.  Why,  for  that  too. 

CAS.  They  shouted  thrice  ;  What  was  the  last  cry  for  ? 

CASCA.  Why,  for  that  too. 

BRU.  Was  the  crown  offer'd  him  thrice  ? 

CASCA.  Ah,  marry,  was't,  and  he  put  it  by  thrice,  every  time  gentler  than 
other ;  and  at  every  putting  by,  mine  honest  neighbour  shouted. 

CAS.  Who  offer'd  him  the  crown  ? 

CASCA.  Why,  Antony. 

BRU.  Tell  us  the  manner  of  it,  gentle  Casca. 

Casca.  I  can  as  well  be  hanged,  as  tell  the  manner  of  it :  it  was  mere 
foolery.  I  did  not  mark  it.  I  saw  Mark  Antony  offer  him  a  crown ; — yet 
'twas  not  a  crown  neither,  'twas  one  of  these  coronets ; — and,  as  I  told  you, 
he  put  it  by  once  ;  but,  for  all  that,  to  my  thinking,  he  would  fain  have  had 
it.  Then  he  offered  it  to  him  again ;  then  he  put  it  by  again :  but,  to  my 
thinking,  he  was  very  loath  to  lay  his  fingers  off  it.  And  then  he  offered  it 
the  third!  time ;  he  put  it  the  third  time  by :  and  still  as  he  refused  it,  the 
rabblement  hooted,  and  clapped  their  chapped  hands,  and  threw  up  their 
sweaty  night-caps,  and  uttered  such  a  deal  of  stinking  breath  because 
Ccesar  refused  the  crown,  that  it  had  almost  choalced  Ccesar  ;  for  he 
swooned,  and  fell  down  at  it :  and  for  mine  own  party  I  durst  not  laugh, 
for  fear  of  opening  my  lips,  and  receiving  the  bad  air. 

CAS.  But,  soft,  I  pray  you:  What?  Did  Caesar  swoon? 

CASCA.  He  fell  down  in  the  market-place,  and  foamed  at  mouth,  and  was 
speechless. 

BRU.  'Tis  very  like  :  he  hath  the  falling  sickness. 

CAS.  No,  Caesar  hath  it  not ;  but  you,  and  I, 

And  honest  Casca,  we  have  the  falling  sickness. 

CASCA.  I  know  not  what  you  mean  by  that ;  but,  I  am  sure,  Caesar  fell 
dpwn.  If  the  tag-rag  people  did  not  clap  him,  and  hiss  him,  according  as 
he  pleased  and  displeased  them,  as  they  used  to  do  the  players  in  the 
theatre,  I  am  no  true  man. 

BRU.  What  said  he,  when  he  came  unto  himself? 

CASCA.  Marry,  before  he  fell  down,  when  he  perceived  the  common  herd 
was  glad  he  refused  the  crown,  he  plucked  me  ope  his  doublet,  and  offered 
them  his  throat  to  cut. — An  I  had  been  a  man  of  any  occupation,  if  I  would 
not  have  taken  him  at  a  word,  I  would  I  might  go  to  hell  among  the  rogues  : 
— and  so  he  fell.  When  he  came  to  himself  again,  he  said,  if  he  had  done  or 
said  anything  amiss,  he  desired  their  worships  to  think  it  was  his  infirmity. 


356  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Three   or  four  ivenches,  where  I  stood,  cried,  "Alas,  good  soul!" — and 
forgave  him  with  all  their  hearts. 

BRTJ.  And  after  that  he  came  thus  sad  away  ? 

CAS.    Ay.  [Exit. 

*  *  * 

BEU.   For  this  time  I  will  leave  you  : 

To-morrow,  if  you  please  to  speak  with  me, 

I  will  come  home  to  you ;  or,  if  you  will, 

Come  home  to  me,  and  I  will  wait  for  you. 
CAS.  I  will  do  so : — till  then,  think  of  the  world. 

[Exit  BBUTUS. 

Well,  Brutus,  thou  art  noble ;  yet,  I  see, 

Thy  honourable  mettle  may  be  wrought 

From  that  it  is  disposed :  therefore,  't  is  meet 

That  noble  minds  keep  ever  with  their  likes  ; 

For  who  so  firm  that  cannot  be  seduc'd  ? 

Caesar  doth  bear  me  hard,  but  he  loves  Brutus  : 

If  I  were  Brutus  now,  and  he  were  Cassius, 

He  should  not  humour  me.     I  will  this  night, 

In  several  hands,  in  at  his  windows  throw, 

As  if  they  came  from  several  citizens, 

Writings,  all  tending  to  the  great  opinion 

That  Rome  holds  of  his  name ;  wherein  obscurely 

Caesar's  ambition  shall  be  glanced  at : 

And,  after  this,  let  Caesar  seat  him  sure, 

For  we  will  shake  him,  or  worse  days  endure.  [Exit. 

In  all  of  this  thrilling*  and  impassioned  dialogue  it  will  be 
perceived  that  there  is  not  one  thought  of  popular  liberty,  the 
only  motive  of  the  conspirators  being  to  protect  the  threatened 
equality  of  Brutus,  Cassius,  &  Co.,  with  Caesar,  and  to  maintain 
the  ascendancy  of  the  Roman  nobility,  over  a  king.  I  have 
given  the  dialogue  above  at  such  length,  simply  because  the 
necessities  of  illustration  would  not  permit  me  to  curtail  it. 
Besides,  the  splendour  of  the  language  and  the  vigour  of  its 
passion  excuse  all  the  space  afforded  to  them.  It  may  be 
objected  that  the  sour,  cynical  Casca  is  alone  responsible  for  the 
above  expressions  of  contempt  towards  the  people,  but  it  must 
be  observed,  that  he  utters  these  derogatory  sentiments  in  the 
presence  of  Brutus  and  Cassius  without  rebuke  or  protest  on 
their  part.  They  must,  therefore,  be  held  answerable  for  par- 
ticipating in  them. 

In  the  scene  second  of  the  second  act,  when  several  strange 
portents  warn  Caesar  not  to  go  forth  upon  the  15th  of  March 
(the  Ides  of  March)  to  the  Senate  House,  where  the  conspirators, 


'  '  Julius  C&sar.  "  357 

fixed  in  their  fell  purpose,  are  awaiting  him,  he  is  entreated  by 
his  wife  Calphurnia  not  to  venture  out  of  doors  :  — 


Caesar,  I  never  stood  on  ceremonies, 
Yet  now  they  fright  me.     There  is  one  within, 
Besides  the  things  that  we  have  heard  and  seen, 
Recounts  most  horrid  sights  seen  hy  the  watch. 
A  lioness  hath  whelped  in  the  streets, 
And  graves  have  yawn'd,  and  yielded  up  their  dead  : 
Fierce  fiery  warriors  fight  upon  the  clouds, 
In  ranks,  and  squadrons,  and  right  form  of  war, 
Which  drizzled  blood  upon  the  Capitol  : 
The  noise  of  battle  hurtled  in  the  air, 
Horses  did  neigh,  and  dying  men  did  groan  ; 
And  ghosts  did  shriek,  and  squeal  about  the  streets. 
O  Csesar  !  these  things  are  beyond  all  use, 
And  I  do  fear  them. 

C.ZES.  What  can  be  avoided, 

Whose  end  is  purposed  by  the  mighty  gods  ? 
Yet  Csesar  shall  go  forth  :  for  these  predictions 
Are  to  the  world  in  general,  as  to  Caesar. 

CAL.     When  beggars  die,  there  are  no  comets  seen, 

The  heavens  themselves  blaze  forth  the  death  of  princes. 

Cms.     Cowards  die  many  times  before  their  deaths  ; 
The  valiant  never  taste  of  death  but  once. 
Of  all  the  wonders  that  I  yet  have  heard, 
It  seems  to  me  most  strange  that  men  should  fear  ; 
Seeing  that  death,  a  necessary  end, 
Will  come,  when  it  will  come. 

Nevertheless,  Ca3sar,  in  his  sublime  wilfulness,  goes  forth,  and 
holds  his  levee  in  the  Senate  House.  The  conspirators  make 
their  opportunity  to  slay  him,  by  pleading  for  the  repeal  of 
banishment  against  the  brother  of  Metellus  Cimber,  one  of  their 
number.  Metellus  puts  the  first  appeal.  He  is  followed  by 
Brutus  and  Cassius,  who,  considering  their  pretensions  and  the 
dark  purpose  which  animates  their  hearts,  address  him  in  a  not 
very  worthy  manner  :  — 

BEU.  I  kiss  thy  hand,  but  not  in  flattery,  Csesar  ; 

Desiring  thee,  that  Publius  Cimber  may 

Have  an  immediate  freedom  of  repeal. 
CMS.   What,  Brutus  ! 
CAS.  Pardon,  Caesar  :  Caesar,  pardon  ; 

As  low  as  to  thy  foot  doth  Cassius  fall, 

To  beg  enfranchisement  for  Publius  Cimber. 
24 


358  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of 


I  could  be  well  moved,  if  I  were  as  you  ; 

If  I  could  pray  to  move,  prayers  would  move  me  : 

But  I  am  constant  as  the  northern  star, 

Of  whose  true-fix'd  and  resting  quality 

There  is  no  fellow  in  the  firmament. 

The  skies  are  painted  with  unnumber'd  sparks, 

They  are  all  fire,  and  every  one  doth  shine  ; 

But  there's  but  one  in  all  doth  hold  his  place  : 

So,  in  the  world  :  'Tis  furnish'd  well  with  men, 

And  men  are  fiesh  and  blood,  and  apprehensive 

Yet,  in  the  number,  I  do  know  but  one 

That  unassailable  holds  on  his  rank. 

Unshaked  of  motion  :  and,  that  I  am  he, 

Let  me  a  little  show  it,  even  in  this  ; 

That  I  was  constant,  Cimber  should  be  banish'd, 

And  constant  do  remain  to  keep  him  so. 
CIN.     0  Csesar,— 

C2ES.  Hence  !     Wilt  thou  lift  up  Olympus  ? 

DEC.    Great  Csesar,  — 

C2ES.  Doth  not  Brutus  bootless  kneel  ? 

CASCA.     Speak,  hands,  for  me. 

[CASCA  stabs  C^SAE  in  the  necTc.  C.ESAB  catches  hold  of 
his  arm.  He  is  then  stabbed  by  several  other  Con- 
spirators, and  at  last  by  MAECUS  BEUTUS. 

CJES.    Et  tu,  Brute  ?    Then  fall,  Csesar. 

[Dies.     The  senators  and  people  retire  in  confusion. 
CIN.     Liberty  !  Freedom  !     Tyranny  is  dead  ! 

Run  hence,  proclaim,  cry  it  about  the  streets. 
CAS.     Some  to  the  common  pulpits,  and  cry  out, 

Liberty,  freedom,  enfranchisement! 
BEU.    People,  and  senators  !  be  not  affrighted  ; 

Fly  not  ;  stand  still  :  —  ambition's  debt  is  paid. 

Then  follow  the  wonderful  appeals  made  by  Brutus  and  Mark 
Antony  to  the  people,  in  which  the  masses  are  represented  by 
our  author  to  be  base,  ignorant,  and  changeful  (accordingly  as  they 
are  swayed  by  the  accents  of  the  respective  orators),  and  he 
makes  them  wind  up  by  tearing  to  pieces  a  harmless  poet  who 
goes  by,  because  he  happens  to  bear  the  name  of  one  of  the 
conspirators.  It  will  be  perceived  by  the  last  of  the  above 
extracts,  that  it  is  Casca,  the  bitter  contemner  of  the  labouring 
classes,  and  Cinna,  and  not  Brutus  or  Cassius,  who  utter  these 
misleading  cries  for  liberty,  only  to  .inflame  and  mislead  the  People. 

Another  poet  is  introduced  in  the  Fourth  Act,  at  the  end  of 
the  famous  quarrel  between  Brutus  and  Cassius,  who,  though  he 


"  A  ntony  and  Cleopatra. "  359 

forces  himself  upon  them  with  the  worthy  purpose  of  reconciling 
the  angry  conflict  between  the  two  kinsmen,  is  most  con- 
temptuously received,  and  ignominiously  disposed  of : — 

Enter  POET. 

CAS.      How  now  ?    What's  the  matter  ? 
POET.  For  shame,  you  generals ;  What  do  you  mean  ? 

Love,  and  be  friends,  as  two  such  men  should  be  : 

For  I  have  seen  more  years,  I  am  sure,  than  ye. 
CAS.      Ha,  ha ;  how  vilely  doth  this  cynic  rhyme ! 
BEU.    Get  you  hence,  sirrah  ;  saucy  fellow,  hence. 
CAS.     Bear  with  him,  Brutus ;  'tis  his  fashion. 
BEU.    I'll  know  his  humour,  when  he  knows  his  time : 

What  should  the  wars  do  with  these  jingling  fools  ? 

Companion,  hence. 
CAS.     Away,  away,  be  gone.  {Exit  Poet. 

It  is  difficult  to  conceive  what  object  Shakespeare  has  in 
snubbing  this  innocent  mediator,  except  it  be,  as  in  Timon  of 
Athens,  to  degrade  the  occupation  of  a  poet.  This  might  be 
natural  in  Bacon,  but  it  seems  very  strange  in  Shakespeare ; 
therefore,  as  far  as  it  goes,  it  scores  a  point,  light  though  it  be, 
for  the  Baconians. 

At  the  end  of  the  fourth  act,  Mark  Antony,  taking  advantage 
of  the  success  which  he  has  gained  through  his  oration  to  the 
people,  makes  a  political  combination  with  Octavius  Cssar,  a  son 
of  Caesar's  niece,  whom  he  had  made  his  heir,  and  with  Lepidus, 
Caesar's  Master  of  Horse,  these  three  declared  themselves,  in 
triplicate,  the  masters  of  the  world.  In  the  fifth  act,  Brutus  and 
Cassius  (according  to  the  play)  raise  an  army  to  confront  the  new 
triumvirs.  The  general  conflict  takes  place  at  Philippi,  where 
Brutus  and  Cassius,  being  defeated,  commit  suicide  by  falling 
upon  their  own  swords.  No  Catholic  scruple  is  here  interposed 
by  Shakespeare  as  to  "  the  canon  'gainst  self  slaughter/'  so  it 
might  seem  that  our  poet,  after  all  his  preference  for  Brutus, 
intends  that  rebellion,  even  for  any  form  of  liberty,  shall  be 
punished  by  endless  torment  in  a  future  state.  Lord  Campbell 
tinds  no  evidences  in  Julius  Caesar  of  the  legal  acquirements  of 
Shakespeare. 


ANTONY   AND    CLEOPATRA/ 


This   play   contributes    but    little   to   our   inquiry.     It   was 
probably  written  in  immediate  connexion  with  "  Julius  Caesar  " 


360  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

and  "  Coriolanus,"  and  it  carries  the  fortunes  of  Antony  to  their 
melancholy  close.  It  consists  of  one  long  revel  of  luxury  and 
passion  with  Cleopatra,  that  "  serpent  of  old  Nile/'  who,  having 
been,  in  turn,  the  mistress  of  Pompey  and  of  Csesar,  died  for 
Antony. 

The  first  phrase  we  find  worthy  of  our  attention  occurs  in 
Scene  2  of  Act  I.  :— 

ANTONY.  Our  slippery  people 

(Whose  love  is  never  link'd  to  the  deserver, 

Till  his  deserts  are  past)  begin  to  throw 

Pompey  the  Great,  and  all  his  dignities, 

Upon  his  son. 
OCTAVIUS  CJESAB.  Let  us  grant,  it  is  not 

Amiss  to  tumble  on  the  bed  of  Ptolemy, 

To  give  a  kingdom  for  a  mirth :  to  sit 

And  keep  the  turn  of  tippling  with  a  slave ; 

To  reel  the  streets  at  noon,  and  stand  the  buffet 

With  knaves  that  smell  of  sweat:  say,  this  becomes  him. 
#  *  * 

This  common  body 

Like  to  a  vagabond  flag  upon  the  stream, 
Goes  to,  and  back,  and  lackeying  the  varying  tide, 
To  rot  itself  with  motion. 

Act  I.  Scene  2. 
POMPEY.  What  was  it, 

That  moved  pale  Cassius*to  conspire?    And  what 
Made  the  all-honour'd,  honest,  Roman  Brutus, 
With  the  arm'd  rest,  courteous  of  beauteous  freedom, 
To  drench  the  Capitol,  but  that  they  would 
Have  one  man  but  a  man  ? 

Act  II.  Scene  6. 

This  is  only  the  same  beauteous  freedom  of  which  we  have  heard 
Brutus  and  Cassius  and  Casca  and  Cinna  discourse  before.  It 
simply  means  freedom  for  nobles  from  a  king,  and  is  no  nearer 
true  political  freedom  than  the  howl  for  liberty  which  Caliban 
set  up  in  "  The  Tempest "  was  akin  to  an  aspiration  for  popular 
enfranchisement.  The  liberty  which  the  island  monster  sighed 
for  was  release  from  durance,  such  as  might  have  been  yearned 
for  by  a  galley  slave.  I  mention  this  latter  illustration  only, 
because  it  is  one  of  the  four  instances  in  which  Shakespeare 
permits  the  words  (( liberty  "  and  "  freedom  "  to  slip  from  his 
pen.  In  Act  IV.  Scene  4,  an  officer  in  Antony's  palace  remarks 
to  Antony  : — 


* '  A  ntony  and  Cleopatra. "  361 

The  morn  is  fair. — Good  morrow,  General. 

My  remark  upon  this  is,  that  the  morn  is  always  fair  in  Egypt. 
I  am  assured  by  Egyptians  that  it  never  rains  above  Cairo,6  on 
the  Nile,  and  so  seldom  at  Alexandria — say  six  or  seven  times 
a  year — that  a  fair  sky  is  not  a  matter  for  remark.  Bacon 
would  not  have  fallen  into  this  mistake. 

ENOBARBUS  (a  follower  of  Antony,  who  has  deserted  him). 
Let  the  world  rank  me  in  register 
A  master-leaver,  and  a  fugitive. 

Act  IV.  Scene  9. 
*  *  * 

ANTONY  (to  CLEOPATRA).  Ah,  thou  spell !    Avaunt! 

CLEO.       Why  is  my  lord  enraged  against  his  love  ? 
ANT.        Vanish,  or  I  shall  give  thee  thy  deserving, 

And  blemish  Caesar's  triumph.     Let  him  take  thee, 
And  hoist  thee  up  to  the  shouting  plebeians : 
Follow  his  chariot,  like  the  greatest  spot 
Of  all  thy  sex  ;  most  monster-like,  be  shown 
For  poor'st  diminutives,  for  doits  ;  and  let 
Patient  Octavia  plough  thy  visage  up 

With  her  prepared  nails.  [Exit  CLEO. 

'Tis  well  thou'rt  gone. 

Act  IV.  Scene  10. 
=::-  *  * 

CLEOPATRA.  Now,  Iras,  what  think'st  thou  ? 

Thou,  an  Egyptian  puppet,  shall  be  shown 
In  Rome,  as  well  as  I :  mechanic  slaves 
With  greasy  aprons,  rules,  and  hammers  shall 
Uplift  us  to  the  view  ;  in  their  thick  breaths 
Sank  with  gross  diet,  shall  we  be  enclouded 
And  forced  to  drink  their  vapour. 

Act  V.  Scene  2. 

And  here  falls  the  veil  upon  this  astounding  drama,  leaving 
Cbopatra  to  be  added  to  Oessida,  as  the  only  two  completed 
female  portraitures  that  Shakespeare  ever  drew.  They  were  not 
portraitures  from  the  cold  and  studied  pen  of  Bacon,  but  such 

6  Old  residents  of  Egypt  will  tell  us  that  it  never  rains  at  Cairo,  and  so 
they  told  me  when  I  was  there,  in  the  winter  of  1870 ;  but,  unfortunately  for 
the  exactness  of  the  statement,  I  was  caught  in  a  smart  shower  in  Cairo,  in 
March  of  that  year,  and  was  pretty  well  wet  through.  It  lasted  but  a  few 
minutes,  it  is  true,  but  I  was  generally  assured  afterwards  that  such  a  thing 
had  not  happened  for  years  before — the  usual  assurance  in  all  countries  of  the 
"  oldest  inhabitant." 


362  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

only  as  could  have  sprung1  from  the  singular  experience  of  a  man 
of  Shakespeare's  life  and  nature. 


LEGAL   EVIDENCES. 

In  searching  this  play  for  evidences  of  the  legal  acquirements 
of  Shakespeare,  Lord  Campbell  remarks  : — 

"  In  Julius  Caesar  I  could  nob  find  a  single  instance  of  a  Roman 
being  made  to  talk  like  an  English  lawyer ;  but  in  Antony  and 
Cleopatra  (Act  I.  Scene  4)  Lepidus,  in  trying  to  palliate  the 
bad  qualities  and  misdeeds  of  Antony,  uses  the  language  of  a 
conveyancer's  chambers  in  Lincoln's  Inn  : — 

His  faults,  in  him,  seem  as  the  spots  of  heaven, 
More  fiery  by  night's  blackness  ;  hereditary 
Rather  than  purchased. 

That  is  to  say,  they  are  taken  by  descent,  not  by  purchase." 

Lay  gents  (viz.,  all  except  lawyers)  understand  by  "purchase," 
buying  for  a  sum  of  money,  called  the  price;  but  lawyers 
consider  that  "  purchase  is  opposed  to  descent — that  all  things 
come  to  the  owner  either  by  descent  or  purchase,  and  that  what- 
ever does  not  come  through  operation  of  law  by  descent  is 
purchased,  although  it  may  be  the  free  gift  of  a  donor.  Thus,  if 
land  be  devised  by  will  to  A.  in  fee,  he  takes  by  purchase,  or  to 
B.  for  life,  remainder  to  A.  and  his  heirs,  B.,  being  a  stranger  to 
A.,  A.  takes  by  purchase ;  but  upon  the  death  of  A.,  his  eldest 
son  would  take  by  descent. 

English  lawyers  sometimes  use  these  terms  metaphorically, 
like  Lepidus.  Thus  a  law  lord,  who  has  suffered  much  from 
hereditary  gout,  although  very  temperate  in  his  habits,  says,  "  I 
take  it  by  descent,  not  by  purchase."  Again,  Lord  Chancellor 
Eldon,  a  very  bad  shot,  having  insisted  on  going  out  quite  alone 
to  shoot,  and  boasted  of  the  heavy  bag  of  game  which  he  had 
brought  home,  Lord  Stowell,  insinuating  that  he  had  filled  it 
with  game  bought  from  a  poacher,  used  to  say,  "  My  brother 
takes  his  game — not  by  descent,  but  by — purchase  ;" — this  being 
a  pendant  to  another  joke  Lord  Stowell  was  fond  of :  "  My 
brother,  the  Chancellor,  in  vacation  goes  out  with  his  gun  to 
kill— time." 


"  Othello  "  36, 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


THE  period  of  the  authorship  of  this  mighty  production  of  our 
poet's  genius,  is  set  down  with  tolerable  certainty  at  1604  — 
in  close  connexion  with  "  Hamlet/'  "  Julius  Csesar,"  "  Macbeth/' 
and  "  Lear."  "  Around  the  year  1600,"  says  Dowden,  "  are 
grouped  some  of  the  most  mirthful  comedies  that  Shakespeare 
ever  wrote.  Then  a  little  later,  as  soon  as  '  Hamlet  '  is  completed, 
all  changes.  From  1604  to  1610  a  show  of  tragic  figures,  like 
the  kings  who  passed  before  Macbeth,  filled  the  vision  of  Shake- 
peare.  *  *  *  Having  created  '  Othello/  surely  the  eye  of  the 
poet's  mind  would  demand  quietude,  passive  acceptance  of  some 
calm  beauty,  a  period  of  restoration.  But  f  Othello  '  is  pursued  by 
'  Lear/  '  Lear  '  by  '  Macbeth/  '  Macbeth  '  by  (  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra/ and  that  by  '  Coriolanus.'  It  is  evident  that  now  the 
artist  was  completely  aroused." 

The  story  of  "  Othello  "  was  taken  from  the  Italian  of  Giraldo 
Cinthio,  but  Shakespeare  cannot  be  said  to  be  indebted  to  its 
original  author  for  more  than  a  thin  line  of  narrative,  which  any 
one  of  an  hundred  of  the  writers  of  his  time,  might  easily  have 
conceived  without  much  effort.  He  created  all  the  characters, 
infused  all  the  passion,  supplied  all  the  imagery,  and,  to  use  the 
language  of  M.  Guizot,  imparted  to  the  dramatis  persons  "  that 
creative  breath,  which  breathing  over  the  past,  calls  it  again 
into  being,  and  fills  it  with  a  present  and  imperishable  life  ;  this 
was  the  power  which  Shakespeare  alone  possessed,  and  by  which, 
out  of  a  forgotten  novel,  he  has  made  f  Othello/  ' 

Though  our  poet  names  Othello  as  a  Moor,  he  has  not 
indicated  the  particular  country  of  his  birth  ;  but  he  seems,  by  a 
casual  allusion  in  the  fourth  act,  to  assign  him  to  Mauritania, 
in  Northern  Africa  :  — 

KODEBIGO.  Why  then  Othello  and  Desdemona  return  again  to  Venice  ? 


364  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

IAGO.  0,  no  ;  he  goes  into  Mauritania,  and  taketh  away  with  him  the  fair 
Desdemona ;  unless  his  abode  he  lingered  here  by  some  accident. 
In  that  torrid  region  the  fiery  warrior  acquired  his  boiling  tem- 
perament and  his  fervid  imagination;  and,  in  its  wars  and  the 
personal  successes  of  those  wars,  he  gradually  acquired  that  bar- 
baric ease  of  bearing  and  consciousness  of  power,  which  makes 
his  character,  in  a  dramatic  view,  so  exceedingly  alluring. 

His  military  merits  must  have  become  familiar  to  the  sur- 
rounding States,  and  having,  probably,  been  greatly  honoured 
by  Venice  for  some  victories,  when  possibly  he  had  been  acting 
as  her  ally,  he  seems  to  have  taken  the  fancy  to  transplant  his 
fortunes  to  Italy  and  become  a  Christian.  This  led  to  his  ap- 
pointment as  a  general  in  the  Venetian  army,  and  to  the  sub- 
sequent responsibility  of  the  defence  of  Cyprus,  against  a 
threatened  descent  upon  it  by  an  armada  of  the  Turks.  Previous 
to  receiving  this  command,  Othello  had  been  living  in  Venice  ; 
and,  to  judge  from  more  than  one  allusion  in  the  play,  must  have 
been,  when  the  scene  opens,  well  advanced  in  years — certainly 
twice,  the  most  likely  thrice,  the  age  of  the  susceptible  and 
gentle  Desdemona. 

This  fact,  along  with  his  barbaric  origin  and  dingy  colour, 
lead  up  to  the  terrible  catastrophe  and  bloody  moral  which  the 
story  levels  against  ill-assorted  marriages.  Such  was  Othello. 
Desdemona,  on  the  other  hand,  was  a  scion  of  one  of  the  highest, 
wealthiest,  and  most  choicely-derived  patrician  families  of  Venice. 
Her  father,  Brabantio,  was  the  most  conspicuous  of  the  Venetian 
senators,  close  in  the  counsel  of  the  Duke,  and,  it  would  appear, 
from  Roderigo's  case,  that  he  held  Desdemona  very  jealously  aloof 
from  even  the  most  eligible  young  nobles  of  the  time,  so  there 
should  be  no  likelihood  of  her  making  a  mesalliance,  or  of  form- 
ing any  attachment  without  his  scrunity  and  patronage.  This 
exceeding  carefulness  by  Brabantio,  against  the  young  gallants  of 
Venice,  does  not  seem,  however,  to  have  taken  the  least  alarm  at 
the  visits  of  the  old,  scarred,  dusky  Moorish  general,  who, 
according  to  the  language  of  his  own  incomparable  defence  before 
the  Senate,  seems  to  have  had  the  unrestricted  run  of  Braban- 
tio's  house.  This  state  of  things  resulted  in  one  of  those  amorous 
episodes  which  fill  the  history  of  human  passion,  and  which, 
though  they  come  about  naturally  enough,  and  are  often,  as  in 
this  case,  entirely  honest,  are  but  too  apt  to  take  an  oblique  turn 


"  Othello."  365 

from  the  latent  wilfulness  of  the  fresher  nature,  and  to  run  to 
a  troubled  termination.  I  should  judge,  from  what  Othello 
twice  says  of  himself,  that  he  was  somewhere  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  fifty-five,  perhaps  sixty  years  of  age ;  and  it  must  be 
noted  that  Sfiakespeare,  when  he  produced  this  play  was  himself 
forty,  and  Bacon  forty-four.  Men  at  these  periods  of  life  do  not 
usually  make  themselves  older  than  they  really  are,  or  regard 
fifty,  or  fifty-five,  as  "  the  vale  of  years."  It  may  be  said,  more- 
over, so  far  as  Othello  is  concerned,  that  he  could  not  have  been 
very  handsome  in  his  features,  from  the  term  "  thick  lips  "  which 
is  applied  to  him  by  Roderigo  in  the  first  scene  of  the  first 
act ;  and,  also,  from  the  fact  that  lago,  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
same  scene,  terms  him  "  an  old  black  ram." 

OTHELLO.  Haply,  for  I^m  Hack, 

And  have  not  those  soft  parts  of  conversation 
That  chamberers  have :  Or,  for  I  am  declined 
Into  the  vale  of  years. 

As  to  Desdemona's  age,  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  from  what 
we  know  of  the  customs  of  the  Italians  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
that  she  was  probably  about  fifteen.  Juliet,  it  will  be  re- 
collected, was  married  to  Romeo  and  affianced  to  Paris,  when 
not  fourteen. 

Here  we  have  these  contrasted  yet  agreeing  natures  of  Othello 
and  Desdemona,  enjoying  too  much  opportunity  in  Brabantio's 
house.  He,  barbaresque,  tropical,  phosphoric,  and  of  grand  mas- 
culinity of  form ;  she  soft,  imaginative,  childlike,  and  susceptible 
—the  opportunity  came  on  some  languid  afternoon,  and  their 
expanding  souls,  guided  by  no  guile  and  steered  by  no  purpose, 
had  magnetic  contact,  and  blending  suddenly,  became  the  victims 
of  each  other.  Desdemona,  it  is  true,  was  a  pattern  of  purity  and 
she  died  innocent ;  but  it  is  doubtful  if  she  could  long  have  re- 
mained so  ;  for,  under  the  incongruities  of  her  case,  and  with  such 
an  unscrupulous  tutoress  as  Emilia  at  her  elbow,1  her  fate  would 
probably  have  been  a  mere  question  of  time.  The  love  between 
her  and  Othello  was  merely  an  animal  fascination,  after  all. 

lago,  with  his  clear  penetrating  knowledge  of  the  world,  under- 
stood this  state  of  things,  and  he  also  thoroughly  knew  the 

1  See  the  dialogue  between  Desdemona  and  Emilia  at  the  end  of  the 
fourth  act. 


366  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

respective  natures  of  Desdemona  and  Othello.  In  fact,  no  man 
of  common  penetration  could  fail  to  understand  the  amorous  wil- 
fulness  of  Desdemona,  if  only  from  her  bold  statement  before  the 
full  gaze  of  the  Senate,  when  she  threw  off  the  authority  of  her 
father,  for  that  of  her  clandestinely-acquired  dusky  husband. 

DBS.     That  I  did  love  the  Moor  to  live  with  him, 
My  downright  violence  and  scorn  of  fortunes 
May  trumpet  in  the  world :  my  heart's  subdued 
Even  to  the  very  quality  of  my  lord : 
I  saw  Othello's  visage  in  his  mind : 
And  to  his  honours,  and  his  valiant  parts, 
Did  I  my  soul  and  fortunes  consecrate. 

So  that  in  view  of  this  girlish  wil fulness,  lago  felt  himself 
warranted  in  advising  Roderigo  (whose  proposals  for  the  hand  of 
Desdemona  had  been  rejected  by  Brabantio)  to  still  pursue  her, 
for  her  love}  notwithstanding  she  had  become  a  wife  : — 

IAGO  (to  RODEBIGO).  It  cannot  be,  that  Desdemona  should  long  continue 
her  love  to  the  Moor, — put  money  in  thy  purse ; — nor  he  his  to  her :  it  was  a 
violent  commencement,  and  thou  shalt  see  an  answerable  sequestration ; — put 
but  money  in  thy  purse. — These  Moors  are  changeable  in  their  wills ; — fill 
thy  purse  with  money ;  the  food  that  to  him  now  is  as  luscious  as  locusts, 
shall  be  to  him  shortly  as  bitter  as  coloquintida.  She  must  change  for  youth : 
when  she  is  sated  with  his  body,  she  will  find  the  error  of  her  choice. — She 
must  have  change,  she  must : — Therefore  put  money  in  thy  purse. — If  thou 
wilt  needs  damn  thyself,  do  it  a  more  delicate  way  than  drowning.  Make 
all  the  money  thou  canst :  If  sanctimony  and  a  frail  vow,  betwixt  an  erring 
Barbarian  and  a  supersubtle  Venetian,  be  not  too  hard  for  my  wits,  and 
all  the  tribe  of  hell,  thou  shalt  enjoy  her;  therefore,  make  money.  Seek 
thou  rather  to  be  hanged  in  compassing  thy  joy,  than  to  be  drowned  and  go 
without  her. 

And  again,  in  the  same  vein  of  philosophy,  lago  says  to 
Roderigo, — 

IAGO.  Lay  thy  finger — thus,  and  let  thy  soul  be  instructed.  Mark  me 
with  what  violence  she  first  loved  the  Moor,  but  for  bragging,  and  telling  her 
fantastical  lies  :  And  will  she  love  him  still  for  prating  ?  let  not  thy  discreet 
heart  think  it.  Her  eye  must  be  fed ;  and  what  delight  shall  she  have  to 
look  on  the  devil  ?  When  the  blood  is  made  dull  with  the  act  of  sport,  there 
should  be, — again  to  inflame  it,  and  to  give  satiety  a  fresh  appetite, — loveli- 
ness in  favour ;  sympathy  in  years,  manners  and  beauties  ;  all  which  the  Moor 
is  defective  in :  Now,  for  want  of  these  required  conveniences,  her  delicate 
tenderness  will  find  itself  abused,  begin  to  heave  the  gorge,  disrelish  and 
abhor  the  Moor ;  very  nature  will  instruct  her  in  it,  and  compel  her  to  some 
second  choice. 


"  Othello"  367 

*  * 

EOD.  I  cannot  believe  that  in  her ;  she  is  full  of  most  blessed  condition. 
IAGO.  Blessed  fig's  end !  the  wine  she  drinks  is  made  of  grapes ;  if  she  had 
been  blessed,  she  would  never  have  loved  the  Moor. 

It  is  quite  true  that  the  whole  of  this  argument  of  lago  is 
intended  to  deceive  and  plunder  Roderigo;  bdt  it  is  entirely 
consistent  with  the  language  of  the  ancient's  soliloquies.  lago 
is  the  character  most  subtly  and  artistically  drawn  of  any  in  the 
piece;  though  to  Othello  is  imparted  more  imagination  and 
loftiness  of  tone.  Both,  however,  act  in  the  main  from  the  same 
impulse — jealousy.  The  difference,  in  the  morale  of  their 
motive  is,  that  one  proceeds  to  his  revenge  from  an  honest  and 
irresistable  sense  of  wrong,  which  never  contemplates  extending 
its  punishment  beyond  the  wronger;  while,  the  plots  of  the 
other  are  mixed  with  calculations  of  self-interest,  and  he  con- 
spires equally  against  the  innocent  and  the  guilty,  whenever  the 
destruction  of  the  former  is  necessary  to  his  plans. 

In  the  first  place,  lago,  who  is  a  soldier  of  intellect,  much 
service,  and  recognized  military  capacity,  has  been  defeated  in  his 
application  for  chief  of  staff  under  Othello,  by  "  one  Michael 
Cassio/"  a  mere  book  soldier,  who,  to  use  la  go's  own  lan- 
guage— 

Never  set  squadron  in  the  tented  field, 
Nor  the  division  of  a  battle  knew 
More  than  a  spinster. 

We  have  thus,  for  lago's  first  motive  against  Othello,  a  sense 
of  injustice,  and  a  consequent  jealousy  of  Cassio.  In  his  soliloquy 
at  the  end  of  the  first  act,  we  see  his  second  motive  to  be  sexual 
jealousy,  pure  and  simple,  against  both  Cassio  and  Othello  : — 

I  hate  the  Moor ; 

And  it  is  thought  abroad,  that  'twixt  my  sheets 
He  has  done  my  office.     I  know  not  if  't  be  true ; 
But  I,  for  mere  suspicion  in  that  kind, 
Will  do,  as  if  for  surety. 

And  again,  in  Scene  1  of  Act  II. : — 

IAGO.   That  Cassio  loves  her,  I  do  well  believe  it ; 

That  she  loves  him,  'tis  apt,  and  of  great  credit : 
The  Moor — howbeit  that  I  endure  him  not, — 
Is  of  a  constant,  loving,  noble  nature ; 
And,  I  dare  think,  he'll  prove  to  Desdemona 


368  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

A  most  dear  husband.     Now  I  do  love  her  too : 

Not  out  of  absolute  lust,  (though,  peradventure 

I  stand  accountant  for  as  great  a  sin,) 

But  partly  led  to  diet  my  revenge 

For  that  I  do  suspect  the  lusty  Moor 

Hath  leapd  into  my  seat;  the  thought  whereof 

Doth,  like  a  poisonous  mineral,  Jcnaw  my  inwards  ; 

And  nothing  can  or  shall  content  my  soul, 

Till  lam  even  with  him,  wife  for  wife; 

Or,  failing  so,  yet  that  I  put  the  Moor 

At  least  into  a  jealousy  so  strong 

That  judgment  cannot  cure.     Which  thing  to  do, — 

If  this  poor  trash  of  Venice,  whom  I  thrash 

For  his  quick  hunting,  stand  the  putting  on, 

I'll  have  our  Michael  Cassio  on  the  hip ; 

Abuse  him  to  the  Moor  in  the  rank  garb, — 

For  I  fear  Cassio  with  my  night-cap  too. 

Here  we  find  an  equal  depth  and  intensity  of  motive  on  the 
part  of  lago  against  Othello  and  also  against  Cassio,  as  Othello 
has,  on  his  part,  against  Cassio  and  Desdemona. 

It  is  not  my  province,  under  the  limited  task  I  have  assumed, 
to  trace  the  Moor's  jealousy  through  all  of  its  feverish  passages, 
nor  to  compare  it  with  the  cooler,  more  stoical,  but  no  less  pro- 
found, jealousy  of  lago ;  but  I  may  notice  here,  that  we  have 
evidence,  in  Shakespeare's  Sonnets,  that  our  bard  had  reason  to 
be  versed  in  all  the  variations  of  that  passion,  under  the 
capricious  vagaries  of  a  certain  black-eyed  Messalina,  who  toyed 
with  the  mighty  Etna  of  his  soul,  without  having  any  true  com- 
prehension of  its  fires,  or  of  her  own  ignorant  audacity,  in  deal- 
ing with  them.2  I  may  be  allowed  to  remark,  moreover,  that 
my  opinion  differs  with  those  of  all  others  I  have  seen,  as  to  the 
real  and  immediate  motive  of  Othello's  murder  of  Desdemona. 
Coleridge  has  made  the  observation  (which  Dowden  thinks  so 
true,  that  he  says  all  the  critics  have  been  obliged  to  repeat  it), 

2  Except  to  his  succumbing  to  the  fascinations  of  a  dark-eyed  and  dark- 
haired  woman  who  excelled  in  music,  and  (as  Mrs.  Jameson  delicately  puts  it) 
"  was  one  of  a  class  of  females  who  do  not  always  lose  all  their  claim  to  the 

admiration  of  the  sex  who  wronged  them one  who  was  false,  fickle, 

and  known  to  him  to  be  a  traitress,  even  to  the  guilty  love  he  entertained 
for  her  and  she  had  feigned  for  him ;  one  for  whom  he  endured  the  pangs  of 
agony,  the  pain  of  shame,  the  grief  of  self-reproach,  and  the  terrible  emotions 
of  jealousy." — "  Shakespeare's  Character  and  Early  Career,"  British  Quar- 
terly Review  for  July,  1875. 


"  Othello:'  369 

that  "  the  passion  of  the  Moor  is  not  altogether  jealousy,  but 
rather  the  agony  of  being  compelled  to  hate  that  which  he 
supremely  loved."  This  I  admit  to  be  very  near  the  truth — in- 
deed, quite  true,  as  far  as  it  goes ;  but  it  does  not  go  quite  far 
enough.  The  main  misery  of  the  Moor  was,  that  his  proud, 
sensitive,  and  selfish  nature  felt,  not  only  that  he  had  been 
wronged  by  Desdemona,  but  that  his  wrong  had  become  known  to 
others,  and  that  he  had  been  made — 

The  fixed  figure  for  the  hand  of  Scorn 
To  point  his  slow  and  moving  finger  at. 

Had  no  one  known  of  her  offence,  so  that  he  could,  in  his  mad 
love  and  furious  tenderness  have  seized  her  in  his  arms,  and, 
bidding  a  wild  farewell  to  the  observing  world,  have  borne  her 
away  to  some  jungle  in  Mauritania,  he  might  there  have  sobbed 
and  throbbed  away  his  still  doting  life,  in  cursing  and  pitying 
her  crime.  But  lago  knew  it,  and  Cassio  (as  he  thought)  also 
knew  it,  and  the  high-strung  soul  which,  under  the  mediating 
influences  of  love,  might  still  have  been  capable  of  compromise, 
but  which  knew  nothing  of  stoicism  or  philosophy,  slaughtered 
the  wronger,  for  the  wound  which  had  been  inflicted  on  his 
pride. 

Without  arguing  this  point  further,  I  submit  the  following  as 
arguing  it  for  me : — ' 

Act  III.  Scene  3. 

IAGO  (alone).  The  Moor  already  changes  with  my  poison : — 

Dangerous  conceits  are,  in  their  natures,  poisons, 

Which,  at  the  first,  are  scarce  found  to  distaste ; 

But,  with  a  little  act  upon  the  blood, 

Burn  like  the  mines  of  sulphur. — 
Enter  OTHELLO. 

Look,  where  he  comes !     Not  poppy,  nor  mandragora, 

Nor  all  the  drowsy  syrups  of  the  world, 

Shall  ever  medicine  thee  to  that  sweet  sleep 

Which  thou  ow'dst  yesterday. 
OTH.  Ha !  ha  !  false  to  me  ? 

To  me  ? 

IAGO.  Why,  how  now,  general?  no  more  of  that. 
OTH.    Avaunt !  be  gone  !  thou  hast  set  me  on  the  rack : — 

I  swear,  't  is  better  to  be  much  abused, 

Than  but  to  Jcnoiv  't  a  little. 
IAGO.  How  now,  my  lord  ? 


370  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

OTH.  What  sense  had  I  of  her  stolen  hours  of  lust? 

I  saw  it  not,  thought  it  not,  it  harm'd  not  me : 

I  slept  the  next  night  well,  was  free  and  merry ; 

I  found  not  Cassio's  kisses  on  her  lips ; 

He  that  is  robb'd,  not  wanting  what  is  stolen, 

Let  him  not  know  it,  and  he's  not  rolb'd  at  all. 
IAGO.  I  am  sorry  to  hear  this. 
OTH.    I  had  been  happy,  if  the  general  camp, 

Pioneers  and  all,  had  tasted  her  sweet  body, 

So  I  had  nothing  known :  0  now,  for  ever, 

Farewell  the  tranquil  mind  !  farewell  content ! 

Farewell  the  plumed  troop,  and  the  big  wars, 

That  make  ambition  virtue  !     0,  farewell ! 

Farewell  the  neighing  steed,  and  the  shrill  trump, 

The  spirit-stirring  drum,  the  ear-piercing  fife, 

The  royal  banner ;  and  all  quality, 

Pride,  pomp,  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war ! 

And  0  you  mortal  engines,  whose  rude  throats 

The  immortal  Jove's  dread  clamours  counterfeit, 

Farewell !     Othello's  occupation's  gone ! 

Again,  in  Act  IV.  Scene  1  : — 

IAGO.  So  they  do  nothing,  'tis  a  venial  slip : 

But  if  I  give  my  wife  a  handkerchief. — 
OTH.    What  then? 
IAGO.  Why,  then  'tis  hers,  my  lord ;  and,  being  hers, 

She  may,  I  think,  bestow't  on  any  man. 
OTH.    She  is  protectress  of  her  honour  too  ; 

May  she  give  that  ? 
IAGO.  Her  honour  is  an  essence  that's  not  seen ; 

They  have  it  very  oft,  that  have  it  not : 

But,  for  the  handkerchief, 

OTH.    By  heaven,  I  would  most  gladly  have  forgot  it : — 

Thou  said'st, — O,  it  comes  o'er  my  memory, 

As  doth  the  raven  o'er  the  infected  house, 

Boding  to  all :  he  had  my  handkerchief. 

Again,  in  the  same  Act : — 

OTH.    I  would  have  him  nine  years  a  killing : — 

A  fine  woman!   a  fair  woman  !  a  sweet  woman  ! 
IAGO.  Nay,  you  must  forget  that. 

OTH.  Ay,  let  her  rot,  and  perish,  and  be  damned  to-night ;  for  she  shall 
not  live :  No,  my  heart  is  turned  to  stone ;  I  strike  it,  and  it  hurts  my  hand. 
O,  the  world  hath  not  a  sweeter  creature :  she  might  lie  ~by  an  emperors  side, 
and  command  him  tasks. 

IAGO.  Nay,  that's  not  your  way. 

OTH.  Hang  her  !     I  do  but  say  what  she  is : — So  delicate  with  her  needle  ! 


Othello:'  371 


— An  admirable  musician !  0,  she  will  sing  the  savageness  out  of  a  bear ! — 
Of  so  high  and  plenteous  wit  and  invention ! 

IAGO.  She's  the  worse  for  all  this. 

OrH.  0,  a  thousand,  a  thousand  times : — And  then,  of  so  gentle  a  con- 
dition ! 

IAGO.  Ay,  too  gentle. 

OTH.  Nay,  that's  certain:  But  yet  the  pity  of  it,  lago! — O,  lago,  the 
pity  of  it,  lago  ! 

IAGO.  If  you  are  so  fond  over  her  iniquity,  give  her  patent  to  offend ;  for 
if  it  touch  not  you,  it  comes  near  nobody. 

OTH.  I  will  chop  her  into  messes. — Cuckold  me  ! 

IAGO.  0  !  'tis  foul  in  her. 

OTH.   With  mine  officer  ! 

IAGO.  That's  fouler. 

OTH.  Get  me  some  poison,  lago ;  this  night : — I'll  not  expostulate  with 
her,  lest  her  body  and  beauty  unprovide  my  mind  again.  This  night,  lago. 

IAGO.  Do  it  not  with  poison,  strangle  her  in  her  bed,  even  the  bed  she  hath 
contaminated. 

OTH.  Good,  good  ;  the  justice  of  it  pleases ;  very  good. 

IAGO.  And  for  Cassio,  let  me  be  his  undertaker.  You  shall  hear  more  by 
midnight. 

The  next  thing  which  commands  our  attention  in  the  tragedy 
of  "  Othello/'  is  the  Roman  Catholic  tone  involuntarily  emitted 
by  our  poet,  in  various  portions  of  the  text.  The  first  of  these 
instances  occurs  in  a  soliloquy  by  lago,  near  the  end  of  the 
second  act : — 

And  then  for  her 

To  win  the  Moor — were't  to  renounce  his  baptism, 
All  seals  and  symbols  of  redeemed  sin — 
His  soul  is  so  enfetter'd  to  her  love, 
That  she  may  make,  unmake,  do  what  she  list, 
Even  as  her  appetite  shall  play  the  god 
With  his  weak  function. 

This  is  a  declaration  that,  though  the  Moor  had  embraced 
Christianity,  he  would  renounce  his  baptism  and  all  the  other 
sacraments,  seals,  and  symbols  of  his  faith,  such  as  the  cross, 
rosary,  &c.,  if  Desdemona  should  command  him. 

Baptism  forgives  original  sin,  according  to  Roman  Catholic 
doctrine,  and  when  administered  to  adults  it  is  a  seal  of  absolute 
redemption.  Othello  could  not  have  been  married  to  Desdemona 
in  Venice  without  having  been  made  a  Christian  and  a  Catholic. 
But  for  his  having  been  fast  married,  Brabantio  would  have 
easily  recovered  his  daughter;  for  the  text  shows  that  no  con- 


372  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

summation  of  the   marriage  had  taken  place   at   the   time  of 
Othello's  arraignment  before  the  Senate. 

Again,  in  the  third  act  (Scene  4),  Othello  in  the  simmering 
prologue  of  his  jealousy,  takes  Desdemona's  hand,  and  studying 
its  palm,  makes  use  of  the  following  purely  Catholic  expres- 
sions : — 

This  hand  of  yours  requires 

A  sequester  from  liberty,  fasting,  and  prayer. 

Much  castigation,  exercise  devout; 

For  here's  a  young  and  sweating  devil  here, 

That  commonly  rebels. 

Again, — 

That  handkerchief 

The  worms  were  hallowed  that  did  breed  the  silk. 

In  the  last  scene,  the  bidding  of  Desdemona  to  prepare  for 
death  by  prayer  and  by  confession,  is  very  Catholic.  Also  the 
exclamation  of  Othello  to  Emilia : — 

You,  mistress, 

That  have  the  office  opposite  to  St.  Peter, 
And  keep  the  gate  of  hell. 

Othello's  last  speech  is  full  of  Catholic  ideas,  such,  for  in- 
stance, as  the  reference  to  Judas  in  the  lines  alluding  to  Christ  :— 

Like  the  base  Judean,  threw  a  pearl  away, 
Eicher  than  all  his  tribe. 

To  conclude,  it  is  not  certain  but  that  Shakespeare  intended 
Othello  should  be  a  negro.  In  the  sixteenth  century,  all 
the  dark-skinned  races  were  called  Moors  in  England,  which 
term  was  made  more  expressive  by  being  familiarized  into 
blackamoor.  Curiously  enough,  the  historical  Othello  was  not 
a  Moor  at  all.  He  was  a  white  man  who  held  the  position  of  a 
Venetian  general,  and  was  named  Mora,  which  Giraldo  Cinthio, 
probably,  for  better  effect,  made  into  Moro,  which  in  time 
became  Moor  or  blackamoor.3  The  white  Othello  murdered  his 
wife  under  much  the  same  circumstances  as  Shakespeare's 
Othello  killed  Desdemona ;  but,  in  the  first  case,  the  floor  of  the 
murdered  woman's  room  was  made  to  sink  away,  and  a  beam  to 

8  "  The  Stage  in  Italy,"  by  R.  Davey,  in  Lippincotf s  Magazine  for 
January,  1875. 


^Othello"  373 

fall  across  her  body,  and  then,  for  a  still  further  concealment  of 
the  crime,  the  house  was  set  on  fire.  It  was  Giraldo  Cinthio, 
who,  finding  this  story  to  his  hand,  turned  the  white  hero  of  this 
terrific  drama  into  a  Moor;  and  Shakespeare,  making  a  step 
further  into  the  morass  with  which  the  infatuated  Desdemona 
had  complicated  her  unhappy  fortunes,  terms  him,  in  portions  of 
his  text,  a  black.  Hunter,  however,  interprets  Shakespeare's 
use  of  this  descriptive  word  to  mean  no  more  than  very  dark, 
and  this  only  as  in  comparison  with  the  fair  European.  "  The 
word  Moor,"  adds  Hunter,  "  was  used  by  English  writers  very 
extensively,  and  all  the  dark  races  seem  by  some  writers  to  be 
comprehended  under  it, — Sir  Thomas  Elyot  calling  even  the 
Ethiopians,  Moors.  A  distinction  was  made,  however,  between 
black  Moors  and  white  Moors."  4 

One  thing  is  certain,  that  Shakespeare  made  his  attractive 
hero  black  enough  to  be  a  shocking  and  repulsive  contrast  to  the 
fair,  confiding,  and  unsophisticated  girl  whom  he  unworthily 
tempted  from  her  filial  duty  and  her  Caucasian  compatibilities. 
The  paternal  confidence  which  he  violated  to  obtain  possession 
of  her  is  shown  by  the  rage  of  his  patron  Brabantio,  when  he 
exclaims, — 

0,  thou  foul  thief,  where  hast  thou  stow'd  my  daughter? 

While  the  full  extent  of  the  incongruity  of  the  alliance,  and  of 
Othello's  breach  of  confidence,  may  be  seen  by  the^  fact  that 
Brabantio  charges,  and  cannot  help  believing,  that  the  ruin  of 
his  daughter  must  have  been  brought  about  by  drugs,  charms,»or 
sorcery.  Finally,  when  Desdemona  confesses  her  infatuation,  as 
a  thing  of  her  own  deliberate  will,  the  unhappy  father  dies  of  a 
broken  heart, — not,  however,  without  uttering  the  warning: — 

Look  to  her,  Moor,  if  thou  hast  eyes  to  see : 
She  has  deceived  her  father,  and  may  thee. 

In  every  point  of  view  this  match  of  the  lovely  Desdemona 
with  the  old  black  man,  has  been  revolting  to  modern  audiences, 
and  there  is  no  sense  in  which  it  is  more  repulsive  than  the 
violence  which  it  inflicts  upon  the  wholesome  laws  of  breeding. 
These  laws  are  more  strictly  observed  in  England,  perhaps,  than 

4  Hunter's  "Illustrations  of  the  Life,  Studies,  and  Writings  of  Shake- 
speare," vol.  iv.  pp.  280,  281. 
25 


374  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

anywhere  else ;  but  Shakespeare,  in  his  abounding  and  unceasing 
love  for  royalty,  probably  thought  he  made  ample  atonement  and 
offset  to  the  prejudice  against  colour,  by  representing  his  black 
man  as  descending  from  a  line  of  kings : — 

'Tis  yet  to  know, 

(Which  when  I  know  that  boasting  is  an  honour 
I  shall  promulgate),  I  fetch  my  life  and  being 
From  men  of  royal  siege ;  and  my  demerits 
May  speak,  unbonneted,  to  as  proud  a  fortune 
As  this  that  I  have  reached. 


SHAKESPEARE'S  LEGAL  ACQUIREMENTS. 

Lord  Campbell  finds  the  tragedy  of  " Othello"  full  of 
evidences  that  Shakespeare  might  either  have  been  a  lawyer,  or 
have  served  as  an  attorney's  clerk. 

"  In  the  very  first  scene  of  this  play/'  says  his  lordship,  "  is 
a  striking  instance  of  Shakespeare's  proneness  to  legal  phraseo- 
logy; where  lago,  giving  an  explanation  to  Roderigo  of  the 
manner  in  which  he  had  been  disappointed  in  not  obtaining  the 
place  of  Othello's  lieutenant,  notwithstanding  the  solicitations  in 
his  favour  of  '  three  great  ones  of  the  city/  says, — 

But  he,  as  loving  his  own  pride  and  purposes, 
Evades  them  with  a  bombast  circumstance 
Horribly  stuff 'd  with  epithets  of  war, 
And,  in  conclusion, 
Nonsuits  my  mediators. 

"Nonsuiting  is  known  to  the  learned  to  be  the  most  disre- 
putable and  mortifying  mode  of  being  beaten :  it  indicates  that 
the  action  is  wholly  unfounded  on  the  plaintiff's  own  show- 
ing, or  that  there  is  a  fatal  defect  in  the  manner  in  which  his 
case  has  been  got  up. 

<f  In  the  next  scene  Shakespeare  gives  us  very  distinct  proof 
that  he  was  acquainted  with  Admiralty  law,  as  well  as  with  the 
procedure  of  Westminster  Hall.  Describing  the  feat  of  the 
Moor  in  carrying  off  Desdemona  against  her  father's  consent, 
which  might  either  make  or  mar  his  fortune,  according  as  the 
act  might  be  sanctioned  or  nullified,  lago  observes, — 

Faith,  he  to-night  hath  boarded  a  land  carack  : 
If  it  prove  lawful  prize,  he's  made  for  ever ; 


"Othello"  375 

the  trope  indicating  that  there  would  be  a  suit  in  the  High 
Court  of  Admiralty  to  determine  the  validity  of  the  capture. 

"  Then  follows,  in  Act  I.  Scene  3,  the  trial  of  Othello  before 
the  Senate,  as  if  he  had  been  indicted  on  Stat.  33  Henry  VII., 
c.  8,  for  practising  (  conjuration,  witchcraft,  enchantment,  and 
sorcery,  to  provoke  to  unlawful  love/  Brabantio,  the  prosecutor, 
says,— 

She  is  abused,  stol'n  from  me,  and  corrupted 
By  spells  and  medicines  bought  of  mountebanks ; 

For  nature  so  preposterously  to  err 

Sans  witchcraft  could  not. 

"  The  presiding  judge  at  first  seems  alarmingly  to  favour  the 
prosecutor,  saying, — 

DUKE.     Whoe'er  he  be  that  in  this  foul  proceeding 

Hath  thus  beguiled  your  daughter  of  herself, 
And  you  of  her,  the  bloody  book  of  law 
You  shall  yourself  read,  in  the  bitter  letter, 
After  your  own  sense. 

"  The  Moor,  although  acting  as  his  own  counsel,  makes  a 
noble  and  skilful  defence,  directly  meeting  the  statutable  mis- 
demeanour with  which  he  is  charged,  and  referring  pointedly  to 
the  very  words  of  the  indictment  and  the  Act  or  Parliament : — 

I  will  a  round  unvarnish'd  tale  deliver 
Of  my  whole  course  of  love  ;  wJiat  drugs,  what  charms, 
What  conjuration,  and  what  mighty  magic 
(For  such  proceedings  I  am  charged  withal) 
I  won  his  daughter  with. 

"  Having  fully  opened  his  case,  showing  that  he  had  used  no 
forbidden  arts,  and  having  explained  the  course  which  he  had 
lawfully  pursued,  he  says,  in  conclusion, — 

This  only  is  the  witchcraft  I  have  used : 
Here  comes  the  lady — let  her  witness  it. 

tc  He  then  examines  the  witness,  and  is  honourably  acquitted. 

"  Again,  the  application  to  Othello  to  forgive  Cassio  is  made 
to  assume  the  shape  of  a  juridical  proceeding.  Thus  Desdemona 
concludes  her  address  to  Cassio,  assuring  him  of  her  zeal  as  his 

solicitor) — 

I'll  intermingle  everything  he  does 

With  Cassio's  suit :  Therefore  be  merry,  Cassio ; 


376   Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

For  thy  solicitor  shall  rather  die 

Than  give  thy  cause  away.  Act  III.  Scsne  3. 

"  The  subsequent  part  of  the  same  scene  shows  that  Shake- 
speare was  well  acquainted  with  all  courts,  low  as  well  as  high ; 
where  lago  asks, — 

Who  has  a  hreast  so  pure 
But  some  uncleanly  apprehensions 
Keep  leets  and  law -days,  and  in  session  sit 
With  meditations  lawful  ?  " 

Here  terminates  the  evidences  of  Shakespeare's  legal  acquire- 
ments as  detected  by  his  lordship  in  "  Othello/'  I  do  not  hold 
them  to  be  of  any  force  in  the  sense  his  lordship  indicates,  but, 
while  he  was  busied  in  his  search,  he  might  as  well  have  added 
the  following  speech  by  Desdemona,  in  Act  III.  Scene  4 : — 

Beshrew  me  much,  Emilia, 
I  was  (unhandsome  warrior  as  I  am), 
Arraigning  his  unkindness  with  my  soul ; 
But  now  I  find  I  had  suborn  d  the  icitness, 
And  he's  indicted  falsely. 

This  was  probably  overlooked  by  his  lordship. 


"  King  Lear"  377 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

"KING  LEAR." 

THERE  is  no  play  of  Shakespeare's  which  has  elicited  more  com- 
ment from  the  critics  than  the  tragedy  of  "  Lear,"  and  among  the 
Germans  it  is  largely  regarded  as  our  poet's  masterpiece.  No 
one  disputes  that  it  is  to  be  classed  with  the  mightiest  efforts  of 
his  brain,  and  to  be  ranked  on  an  equal  plane  with  Hamlet, 
Othello,  Troilus,  and  Macbeth. 

"  The  myth  of  King  Lear  and  his  three  daughters/'  says  Ger- 
vinius,  "  is  related  by  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  who  places  the 
death  of  this  prince  800  years  before  Christ/'  From  him  it  was 
copied  by  Holinshed,  and  a  play  on  the  subject  appeared  upon 
the  English  stage  as  early  as  1594.  The  "  Lear  "  of  Shakespeare, 
however,  could  not  have  been  written  before  1603,  because  "  in 
that  year,  there  appeared  a  book  in  London,  entitled  f  Discovery 
of  Popish  Im posters/  out  of  which  Shakespeare  evidently 
borrowed  the  names  of  the  different  devils  which  Edgar  men- 
tions in  his  simulated  madness."  Several  circumstances  point  to 
the  probability  that  it  was  written  in  1605-6,  as  it  was  pro- 
duced at  the  Globe  Theatre  on  December  26  of  the  latter  year. 
Three  quarto  editions  of  it  appeared  soon  afterward  (1608), 
which  is  satisfactory  evidence  that  it  was  highly  popular. 

A  previous  drama  of  "  King  Lier  and  his  Three  Daughters," 
had  appeared  about  ten  years  before,  but  it  was  a  very  rude  pro- 
duction, and  furnished  no  aid  to  Shakespeare,  beyond  what  he 
had  obtained  from  Holinshed.1 

1  The  story  of  Lear  and  his  three  daughters,  as  given  by  Holinshed,  is 
narrated  thus  : — "  Leir,  the  sonne  of  Baldud,  was  admitted  ruler  ouer  the 
Britaines,  in  the  yeare  of  the  world  3105,  at  what  time  loas  reigned  in  luda. 
This  Leir  was  a  prince  of  right  noble  demeanor,  gouerning  his  land  and  sub- 
jects in  great  wealth.  He  made  the  towne  of  Casrleir,  now  called  Leicester, 
which  standeth  vpon  the  riuer  of  Sore.  It  is  written  that  he  had  by  his  wife 
three  daughters  without  other  issue,  whose  names  were  Gonorilla,  Regan,  and 


378  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

The  names  of  the  three  daughters  of  Lear,  as  given  in  Holm- 
shed,  were  changed  by  Shakespeare  into  Goneril,  Regan,  and 
Cordelia,  and  the  sub-plot  of  Gloster,  Edmund,  and  Edgar  was 
added  by  him,  in  order  to  intensify  the  original  horror.  In  this 
Shakespeare  succeeds  to  an  extent  which  out-Herods  the  bloody 
and  unnecessary  mutilation  of  poor  Lavinia,  whose  hands  were 
cut  off  and  whose  tongue  cut  out,  by  the  sons  of  Tamora,  merely, 
as  it  would  seem,  because  our  poet  had  the  power  of  inflicting 
that  capricious  outrage. 

In  this  play  of  "  King  Lear,"  Shakespeare  takes  the  same  ad- 
vantage of  the  confidence  of  his  audience,  by  perpetrating  the 
shocking  barbarity  of  plucking  out  the  good  old  Gloster's  eyes, 
as  Victor  Hugo  does  in  his  wanton  and  irreparable  destruc- 
tion of  the  mouth  of  his  beautiful  heroine.  Some  of  the  com- 
mentators complain  of  this  outrage  by  Shakespeare,  likewise  of  the 
hanging  of  Cordelia  at  the  end  of  the  play,  and  ascribe  both  to  the 
still  clinging  barbarism  of  the  Elizabethan  period,  from  which  the 

Cordeilla,  which  daughters  he  greatly  loued,  especially  Cordeilla  the  yoongest 
farre  aboue  the  two  elder.  When  this  Leir,  therefore,  was  come  to  great 
yeres  and  began  to  waxe  vn wield ie  through  age,  lie  thought  to  vnderstand  the 
affections  of  his  daughters  towards  him,  and  preferre  hir  whome  he  best 
loued,  to  the  succession  ouer  the  kingdome.  Wherevpon  he  first  asked  Gono- 
rilla  the  eldest,  how  well  she  loued  him :  who,  calling  hir  gods  to  record,  pro- 
tested that  she  loued  him  more  than  hir  owne  life,  which  by  right  and 
reason  should  be  most  deere  vnto  hir.  With  which  answer  the  father  being 
well  pleased,  turned  to  the  second,  and  demanded  of  hir  how  well  she  loutd 
him ;  who  answered  (confirming  her  saiengs  with  great  othes)  that  she  loued 
him  more  than  toong  expresse,  and  farre  aboue  all  other  creatures  of  the 
world. 

"  Then  called  he  is  yoongest  daughter  Cordeilla  before  him  and  asked  of 
hir  what  account  she  made  of  him,  vnto  whome  she  made  this  answer  as  fol- 
loweth :  '  Knowing  the  great  loue  and  fatherlie  zeale  that  you  haue  alwaies 
borne  towards  me  (for  the  which  I  maie  not  answere  you  otherwise  than  I 
thinke,  and  as  my  conscience  leadeth  me),  I  protest  vnto  you,  that  I  haue 
loued  you  euer,  and  will  continuallie  (while  I  liue)  loue  you  as  my  naturall 
father.  And  if  you  would  more  vnderstand  of  the  loue  that  I  beare  you, 
ascertaine  your  selfe,  that  so  much  as  you  haue  so  much  you  are  woorth,  and 
so  much  I  loue  you,  and  no  more.'  The  father  being  nothing  content  with 
this  answer,  married  his  two  eldest  daughters,  the  one  vnto  Henninus,  the 
duke  of  Cornewall,  and  the  other  vnto  Maglanus,  the  duke  of  Albania, 
betwixt  whome  he  willed  and  ordeined  that  his  land  should  be  diuided  after 
his  death,  and  the  one  half  thereof  immediatlie  should  be  assigned  to  them  in 
hand ;  but  for  the  third  daughter  Cordeilla  he  reserued  nothing." 


"King  Lear."  379 

nature  of  Shakespeare  does  not  appear,  says  one  of  them,  to  have 
been  entirely  free.  Gervinius  thinks,  however,  we  should  be 
wrong  in  calling  that  age  barbarous  in  which  the  individual 
could  attain  to  such  perfection  of  culture  as  we  admire  in  Shake- 
speare. I  do  not  quite  see  the  force  of  this  argument,  but  the 
German  professor  remarks  with  more  effect  when,  in  speaking  of 
earlier  rude  periods,  he  says, — 

"  Transported  into  such  times,  we  delight  in  the  historical 
record  of  these  heroic  forms,  of  this  haughty  colossal  manhood, 
of  these  striving  natures,  of  these4demi-gods  and  Titans ;  we  find 
the  wanton  growth  of  impulse  and  passion  natural  to  these  races ; 
we  are  less  shocked  at  the  abundance  of  cruelty,  because  we  feel 
ourselves  involuntarily  attracted  by  the  greater  strength  which 
was  able  in  those  days  to  endure  heavier  burdens  and  sufferings. 
Nor  are  we  even  repelled  and  misled  by  the  idea  that  this  species 
of  manhood  was  in  itself  a  myth  and  a  fable,  too  far  from  the 
human  nature  familiar  to  us  ever  to  have  had  reality ;  we  know, 
from  the  well-authenticated  history  of  the  Burgundian  and 
Merovingian  houses,  that  such  times  and  such  men  did  exist ; 
that  family  horrors,  as  we  read  them  in  Lear,  have  abounded  for 
centuries  even  among  Christian  races,  and  that  the  crimes  of 
Tantalus  in  the  old  tragedy  are  not  necessarily,  and  from  their 
very  nature,  myths  and  fables."  2 

Nevertheless,  let  me  repeat,  it  is  not  justifiable  for  an  author  to 
minister  to  a  perverted  public  taste  for  the  horrible,  or  to  perpe- 
trate, through  his  characters,  terrible  crimes  in  our  presence,  for 
the  mere  purpose  of  witnessing,  as  it  were,  the  effects  of  their 
revolting  force,  upon  our  sentiments.  I  am  disposed  to  forgive 
almost  anything  to  Shakespeare ;  or,  to  speak  more  reasonably, 
to  accept  the  boundless  riches  he  has  conferred  upon  mankind, 
as  a  thousand  times  outweighing  the  faults  he  has  committed, 
but  we  can  never  entirely  pardon  that  heartless  exercise  of  his 
power,  shown  in  cutting  out  Lavinia's  tongue,  in  the  plucking 
out  of  Gloster's  eyes,  and  in  the  abhorrent  hanging  of  the  sweet  and 
low-voiced  Cordelia,  that  filial  saint,  who  breathed  out  her  life  like 
a  crushed  lily,  upon  her  volcanic  father's  bosom ;  simply  because 
the  author  can  hold  us  at  his  mercy,  while  transfixing  us  with 
horror.  These  are  mere  'abuses  of  God-given  strength.  There 

2  Gervinius,  p.  617,  edition  of  New  York,  1875. 


380   Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

was  no  need,  in  order  to  reach  the  susceptibilities  of  his  audience, 
to  hang  that  angel  of  gratitude  and  goodness,  Cordelia.  He 
might  have  allowed  her,  in  accordance  with  the  merciful  sweet- 
ness of  an  old  ballad  which  was  built  upon  the  play,  to  have 
perished  upon  the  battle-field ;  or,  better  still  (according  to  Tate 
and  Coleman's  revised  edition  of  the  tragedy),  to  have  soothed 
the  previous  shocks  of  nature  with  a  gleam  of  peaceful  and  con- 
soling moral  moonlight  by  the  nuptials  of  Edgar  and  Cordelia. 
Nothing  stood  in  the  way  of  this  denouement,  for  no  stern  his- 
tory barred  the  road  against  it,  while  of  horrors  there  had 
already  been  too  many.  Indeed,  previous  to  Cordelia's  death,  we 
had  "  supp'd  full  of  them/' 

The  same  charge  of  unnecessary  cruelty  and  unnatural  depth 
of  wickedness  is,  I  think,  to  be  made  against  the  secondary  plot 
of  Gloster,  Edmund,  and  Edgar.  Edmund,  the  illegitimate  son, 
is  made  too  wicked  to  be  human,  and  this  may  be  remarked  of 
all  of  Shakespeare's  representative  villains ;  such,  for  instance,  as 
Richard  III.,  lago,  Aaron  in  "  Titus  Andronicus,"  and  Edmund 
of  the  play  before  us.  Men  in  a  sound  state  of  health,  and  in 
good  case  with  the  world,  as  all  of  the  above  men  were,  do  not 
perpetrate  deeds  of  cruelty  through  a  mere  relish  for  the  deeds 
themselves ;  and  they  do  not  roll  their  most  horrid  acts  over  like 
sweet  morsels  for  soliloquy,  as  a  cow  pleasurably  and  reflectively 
turns  over  her  cud.  There  were  political  reasons  for  Cornwall  to 
dispose  of  Gloster,  and  there  were  strong  reasons,  also,  why 
Edmund  should  not  possess  a  very  high  consideration  for  the  father 
who  had  put  the  reproach  of  bastardy  upon  him,  and  who 
"  coarsely  and  carelessly  stings  him  with  that  shame.  But  while 
these  reasons  might,  in  the  first  case,  warrant  Cornwall  in  passing 
sentence  of  death  against  Gloster,  and  in  the  second,  induce 
Edmund  to  conspire  toward  it  for  the  sake  of  Gloster's  honours 
and  estates,  these  merely  material  objects  do  not  warrant  the 
indifference  of  Edmund  to  the  horrible  manner  in  which  it  is 
proposed  to  torture  his  father,  as  a  preliminary  to  his  destruc- 
tion : — 

REGAN.  Hang  him  instantly. 

GONERIL.  Pluck  out  his  eyes. 

COENWALL.  Leave  him  to  my  displeasure. — Edmund,  keep  our  own  sister 
company ;  the  revenges  we  are  bound  to  take  upon  your  traitorous  father  are 
not  fit  for  your  beholding.  Act  III.  Scene  7. 


"  King  Lear"  381 

Human  nature  is  not  so  wicked  as  this  represents  it  to  be,  nor 
so  bad  as  it  is  pictured  by  the  bloody  boastfulness  of  Aaron. 
Left  to  its  impulses,  unprompted  by  motives  of  revenge  or  profit, 
human  nature  is  good,  and  always  inclines  to  good,  and  it  is  a 
great  libel  upon  humanity  to  represent  it  otherwise.  It  is  always 
the  impulse  of  a  crowd  to  rescue  a  man  whom  accident  has  sub- 
jected to  a  sudden  danger ;  nay,  let  a  dramatist  put  villainy  upon 
the  stage,  so  that  its  aspect  is  plain  to  the  spectator,  there  will 
never  be  found  a  person  in  the  entire  audience  who  will  not 
execrate  it,  and  sympathize  with  the  innocent  object  of  its  male- 
volence. There  is  always  some  remnant  of  mercy  left  lingering 
in  every  human  heart,  and  Edmund,  with  the  great  influence  he 
possessed  over  the  three  heads  of  the  government,  Goneril,  Regan, 
and  Cornwall,  would  not  have  passed  quietly  out,  in  view  of  the 
terrific  intimation  given  him  by  Cornwall,  without  asking  that 
the  father  who  had  reared  him,  and  who  had  recently  adopted  him 
in  his  heart  in  place  of  the  slandered  Edgar,  might,  at  least,  be 
spared  his  eyes.  There  is  no  good  purpose  served,  as  I  have  said 
before,  by  making  any  description  of  humanity  too  black. 

We  find  in  this  play  a  very  curious  piece  of  evidence  bearing 
upon  the  question  of  Shakespeare's  religious  faith.  In  fixing  the 
date  of  the  authorship  of  "  King  Lear,"  I  stated  that  it  could 
not  have  been  written  before  1603,  because,  in  that  year,  there 
appeared  a  book  in  London  by  Dr.  Harsnet,  entitled  "  Discovery 
of  Popish  Impostors/'  out  of  which  Shakespeare  evidently  bor- 
rowed the  names  of  the  different  devils  which  Edgar  mentions  in 
his  simulated  madness.  This  shows  that  Shakespeare,  like  a  thrifty 
playwright  who  had  a  good  notion  of  business,  did  not  scruple  to 
avail  himself  of  any  current  circumstances  of  great  note  or  popu- 
larity to  attract  the  attention  of  his  audiences ;  and  by  thus 
turning  local  excitements  into  the  text  of  his  pieces,  he  made 
them  talked  about  and  increased  their  popularity.  We  find 
several  instances  of  this  among  his  plays,  and  the  fact  that  he 
did  not  hesitate  to  engraft  one  of  these  accidental  local  excite- 
ments upon  such  a  majestic  production  of  his  genius  as  "  King 
Lear,"  will  afford  a  strong  notion  how  business-like  he  was. 

The  incident  I  allude  to  is  treated  at  length  by  Hunter,  and  it 
doubtless  exercised  as  great  a  spell  upon  the  attention  of  the  good 
people  of  London  in  1603  as  the  Tichborne  case  did  throughout  the 
British  Isles  in  1873 ;  or  as  the  Beecher  scandal  did  in  the  United 


382  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

States  in  1875.  The  case  was  one  of  alleged  witchcraft,  which 
took  place  in  Lancashire  in  1599,  in  the  family  of  a  gentleman 
of  good  name  and  means  named  Nicholas  Starkey,  or  Starchy, 
residing  at  Cleworth,  in  Leigh.  He  had  a  son  and  a  daughter, 
who,  in  1595,  being  then  respectively  of  the  ages  of  nine  and  ten, 
were  seized  with  fits  of  a  novel  and  alarming  character.  The 
family  physician  could  not  master  them,  so  Mr.  Starchy  had 
recourse  to  one  Edmund  Hartley,  a  reputed  conjuror,  who,  by 
the  use,  as  it  was  alleged,  "  of  certain  Popish  charms  and  herbs/' 
succeeded  in  making  the  fits  disappear  for  about  a  year  and  a  half. 
The  fits  having  then  returned,  Mr.  Starchy  consulted  Dr.  John 
Dee,  a  regular  physician,  but  who  was  as  strong  a  Puritan  as 
Hartley  was  a  Catholic.  A  conflict  of  judgment  was,  of  course, 
the  result,  and  the  worthy  Dr.  Dee  advised  Mr.  Starchy  to  call 
in  some  godly  Puritan  preachers,  with  whom  they  might  consult 
as  to  the  advisability  of  purifying  the  atmosphere  by  a  public  or 
private  fast.  Preachers  on  both  sides  soon  became  recruits,  but 
the  fits,  despite  of  these  pious  influences,  having  extended  them- 
selves to  three  young  girls,  wards  of  Mr.  Starchy,  also  to  the  ser- 
vants and  even  to  Hartley  himself,  who  had  become  an  inmate 
of  the  house,  the  excitement  of  the  neighbourhood  and  of  the 
clergy  of  the  whole  country,  became  intense.  A  religious  war  of 
this  description  could  not  terminate,  in  that  vigorous  age,  to  any 
public  profit  without  bloodshed ;  so,  in  due  course  of  accusation 
and  testification,  Hartley,  being  convicted  of  witchcraft  (though 
it  seems  he  did  not  have  the  conscience  to  confess  it),  was  honour- 
ably hung.  This  act  of  justice,  with  some  refreshing  barbarities 
attached  to  it,  which  the  writers  only  allude  to  and  decline  to 
name,  took  place  in  1597. 

There  being  no  newspapers  at  that  time,  the  enjoyment  of  the 
circumstances  was  confined  mostly  to  the  clergy  and  to  a  very  limited 
circle  of  the  town  and  country  people,  who  may  be  characterized 
as  the  neighbours  of  the  Starchys.  In  1603,  however,  Dr.  Samuel 
Harsnet,  who  was  successively  Bishop  of  Chichester  and  Norwich, 
and  Archbishop  of  York,  having  occasion  to  attack  the  Papists, 
issued  a  book  bearing  the  following  title  : — 

"  A  declaration  of  egregious  Popish  Impostures  to  withdraw  the 
hearts  of  His  Majesty's  subjects  from  their  allegiance,  and  from  the 
truth  of  the  Christian  Religion,  under  the  pretence  of  casting  out 
devils ;  practised  ly  Edmunds,  alias  Weston,  and  divers  Eoman 


" King  Lear"  383 

priests,  his  wicked  associates.  WJiereunto  are  annexed/  the  copies 
of  the  confessions  and  examinations  of  the  parties  themselves,  which 
were  pretended  to  be  possessed  and  dispossessed;  taken  upon  oath 
before  His  Majesty's  Commissioners  for  Causes  Ecclesiastical" 

The  excitement  which  preceded  the  publication  of  this  book, 
by  Harsnet,  had  .reached  London,  however,  a  year  or  two  before 
(1601),  and  had  been  ventilated  in  the  taverns,  which,  in  the 
absence  of  newspapers,  were  mediums  for  the  spread  of  all  infor- 
mation of  a  general  or  exciting  character.  The  whole  affair  was, 
doubtless,  discussed  at  "The  Mermaid,"  the  celebrated  inn  to 
which  Ben  Jonson,  Shakespeare,  Rowley,  Ford,  Massinger,  Cot- 
ton, Webster,  and  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  used  to  resort ;  and 
to  its  discussion  there,  and  to  Shakespeare's  familiarity  with  the 
circumstances,  may  be  attributed  his  ridicule  of  the  Puritans  in 
the  play  of  "  Twelfth  Night  •/'  which  latter  play  is  supposed  to 
have  been  produced  in  1601-2,  when  this  excitement  about  the 
Starchy  witchcraft  was  rife.  To  this  also  may  be  attributed  our 
poet's  artifice  of  charging  the  Puritan  steward,  Malvolio,  with 
being  possessed  by  devils,  in  order  to  get  him  locked  up.  Like- 
wise to  this  may  be  assigned  his  subsequent  mockery  of  the  whole 
of  Harsnet' s  statements  through  the  introduction  of  the  absurd 
names  of  some  of  his  devils,  such  as  Smolken,  Flibbertigibbet, 
Moduc,  and  Mahu,  in  Edgar's  no  less  Bedlamite  ravings  in 
"  King  Lear."  Thus  we  have  another  singular  piece  of  proof 
that  Shakespeare  invariably  attacks,  sneers  at,  derides,  and  dis- 
counts Protestants  and  Puritans,  and  never  fails  to  treat  Catholics 
and  the  Koman  Catholic  religion  with  absolute  respect  and 
reverence. 

There  is  another  curious  circumstance  brought  out  by  Hunter 
in  his  investigation  of  this  Starchy  witchcraft,  so  far  as  Shake- 
speare's impressions  of  it  have  operated  upon  the  scenes  and  the 
text  of  "  Twelfth  Night."  The  line  in  Act  II.  Scene  5,  which 
utterly  baffled  all  the  commentators  in  their  endeavours  to  con- 
vert it  into  sense, — 

The  lady  of  the  Stretchy  married  the  yeoman  of  the  wardrobe, — 

comes  out  under  this  light  clearly  as  a  misprint  of  the  word 
Starchy,  and  the  phrase  doubtless  refers  to  some  incident  then 
thoroughly  well  understood,  but  which  has  now,  like  the  inco- 
herent local  rant  of  Nym,  become  meaningless  from  the  mists  of 


384  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

time.  There  is  another  expression  in  "Twelfth  Night-"  which, 
under  the  light  that  Hunter  throws  upon  the  motive  of  Shake- 
speare's attack  upon  the  Puritans  through  the  medium  of  the 
Starchy  witchcraft  delusion,  is  well  worthy  of  observation. 

Hunter  thus  describes  what  took  place  in  the  Starchy  family  : — 
"At  the  beginning  of  1597  the  affair  became  more  serious,  for 
not  only  did  the  fits  return  to  the  two  children  of  M.r.  Starchy, 
but  three  other  young  girls,  wards  of  Mr.  Starchy,  and  living  in 
the  family  with  him,  the  eldest  of  whom  was  fourteen,  were  seized 
in  like  manner ;  also  Margaret  Byron,  of  Salford,  a  poor  kins- 
woman of  Mr.  Starchy,  who  had  come  to  Cleworth  to  make 
merry,  was  seized  in  like  manner;  also  Jane  Ash  ton,  a  servant  of 
the  family ;  and  even  Hartley  himself  did  not  escape  the  infection. 
Then  follows  a  very  remarkable  account  of  the  symptoms,  unlike, 
I  conceive,  to  anything  with  which  medical  practice  is  familiar, 
shouting,  dancing,  singing,  laughing,  in  a  most  violent  and  inordinate 
manner,  throwing  themselves  into  various  postures,  talking  inco- 
herent and  ridiculous  nonsense ;  all  of  which  was  attributed  to 
Satanic  agency.  At  length  it  began  to  be  suspected  that  Hartley 
had  bewitched  them ;  the  magistracy  interfered,  information 
against  Hartley  for  the  use  of  magical  arts  was  laid  before  a 
neighbouring  justice  of  the  peace.  He,  in  fact,  who  had  been 
called  in  to  relieve  them  was  now  suspected  of  being  himself  the 
person  by  whose  means  it  was  that  they  had  suffered  so  much. 
The  young  girls,  when  brought  before  the  magistrate,  were 
speechless,  and  afterwards  said  that  Hartley  would  not  let  them 
speak  against  him.  This  was  considered  sufficient  evidence  against 
Hartley,  and,  under  the  pressure  of  the  Protestant  clergy,  he  was, 
as  we  have  seen,  convicted  and  hung."  A  few  days  after  his 
execution,  some  of  the  girls  who  had  been  ' '  possessed "  appeared 
before  a  convocation  of  ministers,  when,  to  resume  the  language 
of  Hunter,  "  several  of  them  began  to  blaspheme,  and,  when  the 
Bible  was  introduced,  they  shouted  out  in  a  scoffing  manner, 
'  Bible-bable,  Bible-bable/  continuing  this  cry  for  some  time. 
This  was  accompanied  by  strange  and  supernatural  whooping,  so 
loud  that  the  house  and  the  ground  shook  again.-"3 

This  explains,  and  makes  clear,  the  singular  expression  of  the 

1  Hunter's  "  Life,  Studies,  and  AVritings  of  Shakespeare,"  vol.  i.  pp.  384 — 
388.     London,  J.  B.  Nichols  and  Son. 


"  King  Lear."  385 

Clown,  in  "Twelfth  Night/'  to  Malvolio,  when  the  latter  is 
in  durance,  under  the  suspicion  of  being"  possessed  with  evil 
spirits  : — 

CLOWN.  Advise  you  what  you  say;  the  minister  is  here.  Malvolio, 
Malvolio,  thy  wits  the  heavens  restore !  Endeavour  thyself  to  sleep,  and 
leave  thy  vain  bibble-babble. 

Shakespeare  was  here  evidently  treating  his  audience  with  refe- 
rence to  the  current  excitement  on  the  subject  of  the  Strachy 
witchcraft,  which  then  possessed  the  public  mind ;  and  the  whole 
of  which,  under  the  lights  of  three  subsequent  centuries  of  expe- 
rience, it  is  not  difficult  to  understand.  We  can  readily  perceive 
that  under  the  tremendous  revolution  of  sentiment  which  had 
changed  the  religious  belief  of  a  whole  nation,  the  youthful  minds 
of  the  two  Starchy  children  (probably  under  the  lead  of  the  more 
susceptible  imagination  of  the  girl)  had  been  converted  into  a 
sort  of  religious  ecstasy,  which,  according  to  the  foregoing  de- 
scription of  Hunter,  would  seem  to  have  led  them  into  such  crazy 
transports  or  religious  hysteria  as  animate  the  modern  ranting 
Methodists,  or  as  inspire  the  howling  dervishes  of  India,  at  the 
present  day.  I  have  myself  seen  specimens  of  the  latter  reli- 
gious frenzy  in  the  East,  while  of  the  ranters  every  one  has 
observed  enough  of  instances  both  in  England  and  America. 

The  Starchy  girl  was  probably  the  first  specimen  of  the  Puri- 
tan cataleptic  Pythoness  ever  known  to  English  history ;  and  the 
other  females  of  the  Starchy  family,  doubtless,  fell  into  her  hys- 
teric raptures  from  magnetic  sympathy.  The  bewildered  father, 
not  knowing  what  to  make  of  these  howlings,  and  having  failed 
to  control  the  vixenish  exhibition,  called  in,  as  a  dernier  resort, 
a  mild,  quiet,  obscure  Catholic  clergyman,  of  humble  degree,  who 
probably  consented  to  be  regarded  as  a  conjuror,  rather  than  be 
prosecuted  as  a  nonconformist.  He  doubtless  controlled  the 
children  by  soothing  advice  and  the  decorous  lessons  of  his  faith, 
and  thus  secured  a  truce  to  the  girl's  devilment  for  eighteen 
months.  Then,  probably,  through  some  unmanageable  crisis  of 
her  nature,  the  wilfulness  broke  forth  again,  and  the  result  of  the 
relapse  was,  that  the  whole  party  were  taken  before  a  magistrate. 
Sectarian  jealousy  was  thus  aroused,  and  the  poor,  hard-working, 
well-intentioned  priest  was  hanged.  The  other  women,  who  were 
drawn  into  these  cataleptic  spasms,  were  purely  the  victims  of 


386    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. , 

magnetic  sympathy,  and  all  of  them,  doubtless,  could  have  been 
cured  in  a  moment  by  a  bucket  of  cold  water ;  or,  like  the  frenzied 
performers  of  our  modern  camp  meetings,  been  restored  to  their 
tranquillity  by  the  quiet  walking  away  of  the  audiences.  The 
Starchy  girl  was  the  first  ranter  we  have  any  knowledge  of;  and 
it  is  a  pity  that  poor,  inoffensive  Mr.  Hartley  should  have  been 
hung  for  her  disease.  The  report  that  he  had  himself  been  in- 
fected by  it  is  clearly  a  sectarian  fabrication. 

So  powerfully  was  the  public  mind  agitated  with  the  Starchy 
witchcraft  that  Harsnet  published  a  second  edition  of  his  book  in 
1605,  while  Shakespeare  was  at  work  upon  "King  Lear;"  and, 
in  this  latter  edition,  the  Doctor  added  several  new  illustrations. 
"  In  one  of  these  cases/'  says  Hunter,  "  six  persons  were  supposed 
to  be  possessed,"  one  of  whom  Harsnet  mentions  as  Mr.  Edmund 
Peckham.  "  There  were  not  fewer  than  twelve  priests  engaged, 
besides  Edmunds  the  Jesuit;"  "  and  not  the  least  curious  part  of 
the  transaction,"  continues  Hunter,  "  is  that  the  possessed  had 
given  names  to  the  devils  who  infested  them."  The  list  is  very- 
remarkable,  as  compared  with  the  names  used  in  "  King  Lear" 
by  Edgar  in  his  personation  of  Poor  Tom  :  Smolken,  Mako,  Modu, 
Frateretto,  Flibertigibbet,  Hoberdidance,  Hoberdicut,  being  adopted 
by  Shakespeare  from  Harsnet's  vocabulary  of  the  fiends.  By 
putting  these  names  into  the  mouth  of  Edgar,  when  he  was  acting 
in  the  assumed  character  of  a  Bedlamite,  "  it  was  the  intention 
of  Shakespeare,"  adds  Hunter,  "  to  cast  ridicule  upon  the  entire 
affair  of  the  Starchy  family,  and  to  teach  the  people  who  fre- 
quented his  theatre,  to  view  the  whole  with  contempt.  The  means 
were  nearly  the  same  as  those  which  he  had  employed  in  '  Twelfth 
Night'  to  produce  a  similar  result."  Hunter  further  remarks, 
"  that  it  is  worthy  of  attention  that  the  name  of  Edmund,  which 
originates  in  a  different  language  and  at  a  different  period  of  time 
from  those  of  Lear,  Regan,  Goneril,  and  Cordelia,  is  given  by 
Shakespeare  to  one  of  his  leading  characters,  apparently  from 
Harsnet's  publication.  The  following  similitude,  however,  is  still 
more  striking.  Harsnet  says,  in  his  relation  about  one  of  the 
"  possessed"  parties,  "  Master  Maynie  had  a  spice  of  the  Hysterica 
Passio,  as  seems  from  his  youth  :  he  himself  terms  it  The  Mother, 
as  you  may  see  in  his  confession."4 

And  thus,  Shakespeare,  in  Act  II.  Scene  4 : — 
4  "  Hunter,"  vol.  xi.  p.  270. 


"  King  Lear"  387 

LEAE.  0,  how  this  mother  swells  up  toward  my  heart ! 
Hysterica  Passio  !  down  thou  climbing  sorrow, 
Thy  element's  below. 

Shakespeare  seems  to  have  been  in  a  strong  vein  of  plagiarism, 
or  rather  of  self-plagiarism,  throughout  this  play.  We  find 
him  repeating  himself  in  several  paragraphs  from  King  John, 
Othello,  Julius  Caesar,  and  Macbeth.  The  first  instance  of 
this  occurs  in  Act  I.  Scene  2,  where  Edmund,  breathing  the 
very  soul  of  Faulconbridge,  makes  a  remarkable  duplication  oi 
that  character,  by  a  fresh  reference  to  the  very  period  of  time, 
which  Susanna,  our  poet's  eldest  daughter,  occupied  for  her 
irregular  debut  in  the  Shakespeare  family,  subsequent  to  the 
parent's  nuptial  knot.  Shakespeare  was  married  to  Ann  Hatha- 
way in  December,  1582,  and  Susanna  came  May  23,  1583,  so, 
his  first-born  appeared  just  about  fourteen  weeks  before  its  time. 
Robert  Faulconbridge  says,  in  "  King  John/'  when  arguing 
against  his  bastard  brother's  right  to  his  father's  estate, — 

And  I  have  heard  my  father  speak  himself 
When  this  same  lusty  gentleman  was  got. 
Upon  his  death-bed  he  by  will  bequeath'd 
His  land  to  me ;  and  took  it  on  his  oath 
That  this,  my  mothers  son>  was  none  of  his : 
And  if  he  were,  he  came  into  the  world 
Full  fourteen  weeks  before  the  course  of  time. 

Act  I.  Scene  1. 

Now,  in  "  Lear,"  Edmund,  the  bastard  son  of  Gloster,  puts 
his  case  as  follows : — 

Enter  EDMUND,  with  a  letter. 
EDM.  Thou,  nature,  art  my  goddess  ;  to  thy  law 
My  services  are  bound :  Wherefore  should  I 
Stand  in  the  plague  of  custom ;  and  permit 
The  curiosity  of  nations  to  deprive  me, 
For  that  lam  some  twelve  or  fourteen  moonshines 
Lag  of  a  brother  ?    Why  bastard  ?  wherefore  base? 
When  my  dimensions  are  as  well  compact, 
My  mind  as  generous,  and  my  shape  as  true, 
As  honest  madam's  issue  ?     Why  brand  they  us 
With  base  ?  with  baseness  ?  bastardy  ?  base,  base  ? 
Who,  in  the  lusty  stealth  of  nature,  take 
More  composition  and  fierce  quality, 
Than  doth,  within  a  dull,  stale,  tired  bed, 


388  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Go  to  the  creating  a  whole  tribe  of  fops, 

Got  'tween  asleep  and  awake  ?— Well  then, 

Legitimate  Edgar,  I  must  have  your  land  : 

Our  father's  love  is  to  the  bastard  Edmund, 

As  to  the  legitimate :  Fine  word,— legitimate  ! 

Well,  my  legitimate,  if  this  letter  speed, 

And  rny  invention  thrive,  Edmund  the  base 

Shall  top  the  legitimate.  Act  I.  Scene  2. 

Another  plagiarism  upon  the  Faulconbridge  of  "  King  John  " 
appears  in  Act  II.  Scene  2,  where  Kent  says  to  Cornwall, — 

Yes,  sir ;  but  anger  hath  a  privilege. 

It  will  be  seen  that  this  is  a  conspicuous  imitation  of  Pem- 
broke's reply  to  the  Bastard,  as  they  stand  quarreling  over  the 
dead  body  of  Arthur  : — 

PEM.     Sir,  sir,  impatience  hath  his  privilege. 

BAST.  'Tis  true  ;  to  hurt  his  master,  no  man  else. 

We  next  find  Edmund  repeating  the  trick  which  Cassius  played 
on  Brutus,  by  showing  to  Gloster  a  letter  he  had  forged  to  the 
disparagement  of  Edgar,  but  which  he  represents  had  been 
"  thrown  in  at  the  casement "  of  his  chamber,  as  Cassius  had 
contrived  to  have  done  to  Brutus.  In  the  same  scene  Edmund 
devises  an  interview  between  himself  and  Edgar,  for  the  in- 
credulous Gloster  to  overhear,  in  the  course  of  which,  by  the 
artful  discussion  of  a  different  topic,  we  have  repeated  to  us  the 
singular  scene  between  lago,  Cassio,  Bianca,  and  Othello. 

Another  instance  occurs  in  Act  III.  Scene  7,  where  Gloster, 
in  imitation  of  an  expression  by  Macbeth,  says, — 

I  am  tied  to  the  stake,  and  I  must  stand  the  course. 
The  expression  of  Macbeth  is, — 

They  have  tied  me  to  a  stake  :  I  cannot  fly, 
]But,  bear-like,  I  must  fight  the  course. 

Let  me  here  mention,  as  it  is  an  isolated  case,  in  support  of 
my  views  as  to  the  probable  high  rank  of  Timon's  steward,  that 
in  this  play  of  "  Lear,"  we  find  a  steward  writing  letters  under 
GoneriFs  dictation  (but  using  his  own  form  of  expression) ;  thus 
showing  that,  in  acting  in  this  way  for  one  of  the  three  heads  of 
the  then  British  Government,  he,  though  a  steward,  was  exer- 
cising the  function  of  a  privy  counsellor. 


"  King  Lear"  389 

The  course  of  the  play  now  brings  me  to  the  actual  plucking- 
out  of  Gloster's  eyes,  and  as  it  presents  an  instance  of  true 
worthiness  in  a  mere  serving-man,  it  thus,  to  some  extent,  seems 
to  run  against  the  theory  that  Shakespeare  never  makes  a  hero 
of  an  humble  person,  or  graces  him  with  voluntary  virtue.  I 
will  give  the  matter  at  sufficient  length,  to  enable  the  situation 
to  be  well  understood. 

The  scene  is  in  the  castle  of  Gloster,  who  is  entertaining 
Regan  and  her  husband  the  Duke  of  Cornwall,  as  his  guests. 
During  their  stay,  Edmund  has  taken  the  opportunity  thus 
afforded  to  him,  to  betray  to  the  Duke  the  fact  that  his  father 
had  received  a  letter  from  the  invading  forces,  and  had  furnished 
to  King  Lear  the  means  to  escape  to  Dover,  and  put  himself 
under  their  protection.  Upon  this,  the  following  terrific  scene 
ensues : — 

Act  III.  Scene  7. — A  JRoom  in  Gloster 's  Castle. 

Enter  the  DUKE  OF  COBNWALL,  BEGAN,  GONEBIL,  EDMUND,  and  Servants. 
COBN.  Post  speedily  to  my  lord  your  husband  ;  show  him  this  letter — the 
army  of  France  is  landed. — Seek  out  the  villain  Gloster. 
ErEa.  Hang  him  instantly.  [Exeunt  some  of  the  Servants. 

GON.  Pluck  out  his  eyes. 

COBN.  Leave  him  to  my  displeasure. — Edmund,  keep  you  our  sister  com- 
pany ;  the  revenges  we  are  bound  to  take  upon  your  traitorous  father,  are 

not  fit  for  your  beholding 

Enter  Steward. 
How  now  ?    Where's  the  king  ? 
STEW.  My  lord  of  Gloster  hath  convey 'd  him  hence : 
Some  five  or  six  and  thirty  of  his  knights, 
Hot  questrists  after  him,  met  him  at  gate ; 
Who,  with  some  other  of  the  lord's  dependants, 
Are  gone  with  him  towards  Dover ;  where  they  boast 
To  have  well-arm'd  friends. 

COBN.  Get  horses  for  your  mistress. 

GON.    Farewell,  sweet  lord,  and  sister. 

[Exeunt  GONEEIL  and  EDMUND. 
COEN.  Edmund,  farewell. — (To  the  Servants)  Go,  seek  the  traitor 

Gloster, 
Pinion  him  like  a  thief,  bring  him  before  us  : 

[Exeunt  other  Servants. 
Though  well  we  may  not  pass  upon  his  life 
Without  the  form  of  justice ;  yet  our  power 
Shall  do  a  courtesy  to  our  wrath,  which  men 
May  blame,  but  not  control.    Who's  there  ?    The  traitor  ? 

He-enter  Servants,  with  GLOSTEE. 
26 


390  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

REG.    Ingratef  ul  fox !  'tis  he. 

CORN.  Bind  fast  his  corky  arms. 

GLO.    What  means  your  graces  P— Good  my  friends,  consider 

You  are  my  guests :  do  me  no  foul  play,  friends. 
COBN.  Bind  him,  I  say.  [Servants  Und  him. 

REG.    Hard,  hard :— 0  filthy  traitor ! 
GLO.    Unmerciful  lady  as  you  are,  I  am  none. 
COBN.  To  this  chair  bind  him  : — Villain,  thou  shalt  find — 

[REGAN  plucks  his  heard. 
GLO.     By  the  kind  gods,  'tis  most  ignobly  done, 

To  pluck  me  by  the  beard. 
REG.    So  white,  and  such  a  traitor  ! 
GLO.  Naughty  lady, 

These  hairs,  which  thou  dost  ravish  from  my  chin, 

Will  quicken,  and  accuse  thee :  I  am  your  host ; 

With  robbers'  hands,  my  hospitable  favours 

You  should  not  ruffle  thus.     What  will  you  do  ? 
COBN.  Come,  sir,  what  letters  had  you  late  from  France  P 
REG.    Be  simple-answer 'd,  for  we  know  the  truth. 
COBN.  And  what  confederacy  have  you  with  the  traitors 

Late  footed  in  the  kingdom  ? 

REG.    To  whose  hands  have  you  sent  the  lunatic  king  ?     Speak. 
GLO.     I  have  a  letter  guessingly  set  down, 

Which  came  from  one  that's  of  a  neutral  heart, 

And  not  from  one  opposed. 
COBN.  Cunning. 

REG.  And  false. 

COBN.  Where  hast  thou  sent  the  king  ? 
GLO.  To  Dover. 

REG.  Wherefore 

To  Dover  ?     Wast  thou  not  charged  at  thy  peril — 
COBN.  Wherefore  to  Dover  ?     Let  him  first  answer  that. 
GLO.     I  am  tied  to  the  stake,  and  I  must  stand  the  course. 
REG.    Wherefore  to  Dover? 
GLO.    Because  I  would  not  see  thy  cruel  nails 

Pluck  out  his  poor  old  eyes  ;  nor  thy  fierce  sister 

In  his  anointed  flesh  stick  bearish  fangs. 

The  sea,  with  such  a  storm  as  his  bare  head 

In  hell-black  night  endured,  would  have  buoy'd  up 

And  quench'd  the  stelled  fires :  yet,  poor  old  heart, 

He  help  the  heavens  to  reign. 

If  wolves  had  at  thy  gate  howl'd  that  stern  time, 

Thou  should'st  have  said,  Good  porter,  turn  the  key ; 

All  cruels  else  subscribed  : — But  I  shall  see 

The  winged  vengeance  overtake  such  children. 
COBN.  See  it  shalt  thou  never  : — Fellows,  hold  the  chair  : — • 

Upon  these  eyes  of  thine  I'll  set  my  foot. 


1 '  King  Lear"  3  9  j 

[GLOSTEE  is  held  down  in  his  chair,  while  COENWALL 
plucks  out  one  of  his  eyes,  and  sets  his  foot  on  it. 
GLO.     He  that  will  think  to  live  till  he  be  old, 

Give  me  some  help : — 0  cruel !  0  ye  gods  ! 
REG.    One  side  will  mock  another  ;  the  other  too. 
COEN.  If  you  see  vengeance, — 
SEEV.  Hold  your  hand,  my  lord  ; 

I  have  served  you  ever  since  I  was  a  child  ; 

But  better  service  have  I  never  done  you 

Than  now  to  bid  you  hold. 

REG.  How  now,  you  dog  ? 

SEEV.  If  you  did  wear  a  beard  upon  your  chin, 

I'd  shake  it  on  this  quarrel :   What  do  you  mean  ? 
COEN.  My  villain  !  [Draws,  and  runs  at  him. 

SEEV.  Nay,  then  come  on,  and  take  the  chance  of  anger. 

[Draws.     They  fight.     COENWALL  is  wounded. 
REG.    Give  me  thy  sword. —  [To  another  Servant. 

A  peasant  stand  up  thus  ! 

[Snatches  a  sword,  comes  behind,  and  stabs  him. 
SEEV.  O,  I  am  slain ! — My  lord,  you  have  one  eye  left 

To  see  some  mischief  on  him  : — 0  !  [Dies. 

COEN.  Lest  it  see  more,  prevent  it :  Out,  vile  jelly  ! 

Where  is  thy  lustre  now  ? 

[Tears  out  GLOSTEE'S  other  eye,  and  throws  it  on  the  ground. 
GLO.    All  dark  and  comfortless. — Where's  my  Son,  Edmund  ? 

Edmund,  enkindle  all  the  sparks  of  nature, 

To  quit  this  horrid  act. 
REG.  Out,  treacherous  villain  ! 

Thou  call'st  on  him  that  hates  thee :  it  was  he 

That  made  the  overture  of  thy  treasons  to  us  ; 

Who  is  too  good  to  pity  thee. 
GLO.  0  my  follies  ! 

Then  Edgar  was  abused. — 

Kind  gods,  forgive  me  that,  and  prosper  him  ! 
REG.    Go,  thrust  him  out  at  gates,  and  let  him  smell 

His  way  to  Dover. — How'st,  my  lord  ?     How  look  you  ? 
COEN.  I  have  received  a  hurt : — Follow  me,  lady. 

Turn  out  that  eyeless  villain  ; — throw  this  slave 

Upon  the  dunghill. — Regan,  I  bleed  apace : 

Untimely  comes  this  hurt :  Give  me  your  arm. 

[Exit  COENWALL,  led  by  REGAN.     Servants  unbind 
GLOSTEE,  and  lead  him  out. 

1  SEEV.  Til  never  care  what  wickedness  I  do, 

If  this  man  come  to  good. 

2  SEEV.  If  she  live  long, 

And,  in  the  end,  meet  the  old  course  of  death, 
Women  will  all  turn  monsters. 


392  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

1  SEEV.  Let's  follow  the  old  earl,  and  get  the  Bedlam 

To  lead  him  where  he  would  ;  his  roguish  madness 
Allows  itself  to  anything. 

2  SEEV.  Go  thou;  I'll  fetch  some  flax,  and  whites  of  eggs, 

To  apply  to  his  bleeding  face.     Now,  Heaven  help  him  ! 

{Exeunt  severally. 

Here  is  courage  and  worthy  purpose,  for  the  first  time, 
accorded  by  our  poet  to  a  common  man.  I  give  it  fully  and  for 
all  that  it  is  worth ;  but  it  must  be  observed  that  the  incident  is 
one  of  meagre  bounds  and  momentary  passion,  and  it  is  not  amiss 
to  notice,  that  the  servant  who  rebels  against  his  master  in  the 
interest  of  humanity,  meets  the  immediate  reward  of  death.  It 
may  also  be  observed  that  the  humanity  and  kindness  of  the  two 
other  servants  was  the  irrepressible  instinct  of  retainers,  who  had 
been  brought  up  and  nurtured  in  the  family  of  the  injured 
Gloster.  Moreover,  their  rude  pity  was  necessary  as  a  foil  and 
setting  to  the  wolfish  cruelty  of  the  main  actors.  So  far  as 
Shakespeare  is  concerned,  therefore,  it  was  the  dramatic  artist, 
not  the  man,  who  spoke  through  the  protesting  serfs. 

There  is  but  little  left  in  this  play  which,  at  present,  requires 
our  attention ;  but,  as  Catholic  symptoms  of  the  religious  com- 
plexion of  our  poet's  mind  are  next  in  order,  I  wish  to  direct 
attention  to  the  following  expressions  : — in  Act  III.  Scene  2,  the 
Fool  says  to  Lear,  while  the  latter  is  invoking  the  full  fury  of 
the  tempest  on  the  heath, — 

O  nuncle,  court  holy^water  in  a  dry  house  is  better  than  this  rain-water 
out  o'  door. 

Again,  the  Fool  says,  during  the  same  storm, — 

No  heretics  hurn'd  but  wench's  suitors. 

A  most  substantial  instance  occurs,  however,  bearing  upon 
this  portion  of  our  theme,  in  the  lines  describing  how  Cordelia 
received  the  news  of  the  sufferings  of  the  poor  old  king,  her 
father : — 

There  she  shook 

The  holy  water  from  her  heavenly  eyes 
And  clamour  moisten'd,  then  away  she  started 
To  deal  with  grief  alone. 

In  connexion  with  this  scene,  let  me  not  pass  the  expression 
of  the  gentleman,  who,  looking  with  agony  and  commiseration 
upon  the  sufferings  of  Lear,  exclaims, — 


"  King  Lear  "  393 

A  eight  most  pitiful  in  the  meanest  wretch  ; 
Past  speaking  of  in  a  king  ! 

Here  we  recognize,  once  more,  the  worshipful  leaning  of  our 
poet  for  a  king. 


SHAKESPEARE'S  LEGAL  ACQUIREMENTS. 

I  have  but  one  further  task  of  observation  left  to  my  scope  of 
duty,  in  connexion  with  this  play,  and  that  is  to  present  the 
evidence  which  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell  finds  to  support  the 
idea  that  our  poet  had  either  been  a  practising  lawyer  like  Bacon 
or  an  attorney's  clerk. 

"  In  Act  I.  Scene  4,  the  Fool/'  says  his  lordship,  "  makes  a 
lengthy  rhyming  speech,  containing  a  great  many  trite  but  useful 
moral  maxims,  such  as, — 

Have  more  than  thou  showest, 
Speak  less  than  thou  knowest,  &c. 

which  the  testy  old  king  found  rather  flat  and  tiresome. 

LEAR.  This  is  nothing,  fool. 

FOOL.  Then,  'tis  like  the  breath  of  an  un-feed  lawyer:  you  gave  me 
nothing  for  it. 

"  This  seems  to  show  that  Shakespeare  had  frequently  been  pre- 
sent at  trials  in  courts  of  justice,  and  now  speaks  from  his  own 
recollection.  There  is  no  trace  of  such  a  proverbial  saying  as 
'  like  the  breath  of  an  unfeed  lawyer/  while  all  the  world  knows 
the  proverb,  '  Whosoever  is  his  own  counsel  has  a  fool  for  his 
client ' 

"  I  confess  that  there  is  some  foundation  for  the  saying,  that '  a 
lawyer's  opinion  which  costs  nothing  is  worth  nothing ; '  but 
this  can  only  apply  to  opinions  given  off-hand,  in  the  course  of 
common  conversation, — where  there  is  no  time  for  deliberation, 
where  there  is  a  desire  to  say  what  will  be  agreeable,  and  where 
no  responsibility  is  incurred. 

"  In  Act  II.  Scene  1,  there  is  a  remarkable  example  of  Shake- 
speare's use  of  technical  legal  phraseology.  Edmund,  the  wicked 
illegitimate  son  of  the  Earl  of  Gloster,  having  succeeded  in 
deluding  his  father  into  the  belief  that  Edgar,  the  legitimate  son, 
had  attempted  to  commit  parricide,  and  had  been  prevented  from 


394  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

accomplishing1  the  crime  by  EdmundV  tender  solicitude  for  the 
Earl's  safety,  the  Earl  is  thus  made  to  express  a  determination 
that  he  would  disinherit  Edgar  (who  was  supposed  to  have  fled 
from  justice),  and  that  he  would  leave  all  his  possessions  to 
Edmund : — 

GLO.  Strong  and  fasten 'd  villain  ! 

•  *  • 

All  ports  I'll  bar  ;  the  villain  shall  not  'scape. 

*  *  * 

Besides,  his  picture 

I  will  send  far  and  near,  that  all  the  kingdom 
May  have  due  note  of  him  ; 5  and  of  my  land, 
Loyal  and  natural  boy,  I'll  work  the  means 
To  make  thee  capable. 

"  In  forensic  discussions  respecting  legitimacy,  the  question  is 
put,  whether  the  individual  whose  status  is  to  be  determined  is 
t  capable/  i.  e.,  capable  of  inheriting ;  but  it  is  only  a  lawyer 
who  would  express  the  idea  of  legitimizing  a  natural  son  by 
simply  saying, — 

I'll  work  the  means  to  make  him  capable. 

"  Again,  in  Act  III.  Scene  5,  we  find  Edmund  trying  to  incense 
the  Duke  of  Cornwall  against  his  father  for  having  taken  part 
with  Lear  when  so  cruelly  treated  by  Goneril  and  Regan.  The 
two  daughters  had  become  the  reigning  sovereigns,  to  whom 
Edmund  professed  to  owe  allegiance.  Cornwall,  having  created 
Edmund  Earl  of  Gloster,  says  to  him, — 

Seek  out  where  thy  father  is,  that  he  may  be  ready  for  our  apprehension. 
On  which  Edmund  observes  aside, — 

If  I  find  him  comforting  the  king,  it  will  stuff  his  suspicion  more  fully. 

"  Upon  this  Dr.  Johnson  has  the  following  note  : — '  He  uses 
the  word  [comforting]  in  the  juridical  sense,  for  supporting, 
helping/ 

' '  The  indictment  against  an  accessory  after  the  fact,  for  treason, 
charges  that  the  accessory  '  comforted '  the  principal  traitor 
after  knowledge  of  the  treason. 

"  In  Act  III.  Scene  6,  the  imaginary  trial  of  the  two  unnatural 

*  One  would  suppose  that  photography,  by  which  this  mode  of  catching 
criminals  is  now  practised,  had  been  invented  in  the  reign  of  "  King  Lear." 


"King  Lear!'  395 

daughters  is  conducted  in  a  manner  showing-  a  perfect  familiarity 
with  criminal  procedure. 

"  Lear  places  the  two  Judges  on  the  bench,  viz.,  Mad  Tom  and 
the  Fool.  He  properly  addresses  the  former  as  e  the  robed  man 
of  justice/  but,  although  both  were  '  of  the  commission/  I  do 
not  quite  understand  why  the  latter  is  called  his  '  yokefellow  of 
equity/  unless  this  might  be  supposed  to  be  a  special  commis- 
sion, like  that  which  sat  on  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  including 
Lord  Chancellor  Audley. 

"  Lear  causes  Goneril  to  be  arraigned  first,  and  then  proceeds  as 
a  witness  to  give  evidence  against  her,  to  prove  an  overt  act  of 
high  treason : — 

I  here  take  my  oath  before  this  honourable  assembly,  she  kicked  the  poor 
king,  her  father. 

"  But  the  trial  could  not  be  carried  on  with  perfect  regularity 
on  account  of  Lear's  madness,  and,  without  waiting  for  a  verdict, 
he  himself  sentences  Regan  to  be  anatomized. 

Then,  let  them  anatomize  Eegan ;  see  what  breeds  about  her  heart.'' 

All  I  have  to  remark  in  regard  to  the  foregoing  is,  that,  not- 
withstanding the  great  diligence  which  these  extracts  exhibit  on 
the  part  of  Lord  Campbell  in  examining  the  text,  his  lordship 
has  singularly  enough  overlooked,  or,  perhaps,  I  should  rather 
say,  intentionally  left  out,  two  of  the  most  striking  evidences  of 
Shakespeare's  knowledge  of  the  administration  of  the  law,  as  it 
then  seemed  to  be  practised  in  Great  Britain,  which  his  works 
afford.  Both  of  these  instances  occur  in  the  famous  scene  in  Act 
IV.  Scene  6,  where  the  mad  old  king,  fantastically  dressed  in 
flowers,  holds  a  sort  of  court  upon  the  heath  : — 

LEAE  (to  Grloster).  Look  with  thine  ears.  See  how  yon'  justice  rails 
upon  yon'  simple  thief.  Hark,  in  thine  ear.  Change  places ;  and,  handy- 
dandy,  which  is  the  justice,  which  is  the  thief? 


Again  : — 


Through  tatter'd  clothes  small  vices  do  appear ; 
Robes  andfurrd  gowns  hide  all.     Plate  sin  with  gold 
And  the  strong  lance  of  justice  hurtless  breaks  ; 
Arm  it  in  rags,  a  pigmy's  straw  will  pierce  it. 
None  does  offend,  none,  I  say  none ;  I'll  able  'em. 

\_OJfers  money • 


396  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Take  that  of  me,  my  friend,  who  have  the  power 
To  seal  the  accusers  lips. 

Surely  Lord  Campbell,  who  accepted  his  first  legal  instance  in 
this  play  from  the  mouth  of  a  fool,  as  to  an  "  un-feed  lawyer/' 
might  have  given  some  attention  to  the  above  powerful  lines, 
from  the  lips  of  a  madman. 

The  illustration,  however,  does  not  reflect  much  credit  upon 
the  administration  of  justice,  of  which  Lord  Campbell  had  been 
such  "  a  shining  pillar,"  while  it  would  be  perfectly  destructive 
to  Lord  Bacon,  who  had  been  degraded  from  the  bench  and  sent 
to  prison  for  taking  bribes.  Perhaps  the  former  idea  is  the 
reason  of  his  lordship's  silence.  Of  one  thing  we  may  be  certain, 
Bacon  would  never  have  written  these  latter  allusions  to  judicial 
corruption;  or,  if  he  had  done  so  in  1605,  when  "Lear"  was 
composed,  he  would  have  expunged  them  in  1623,  when  the 
Shakespearian  folio  was  revised  and  published. 


"  Hamlet" 


397 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 


TEE  basis  of  the  story  of  "  Hamlet "  is  found  in  the  Latin  of 
the  Danish  historian,  Saxo  Grammaticus,  who  died  about  1204, 
from  whence  it  found  its  way,  with  some  alterations,  into  Belle- 
forest's  collection  of  novels,  which  was  begun  in  1564,  the  year 
of  our  poet's  birth.  From  this  receptacle  Shakespeare  doubtless 
took  the  narrative,  and  gave  it  the  fashion  it  at  present  wears. 

" '  Hamlet  *  "  was  most  probably  written/'  says  Kenny,  "  to- 
wards the  end  of  1601,  or  the  commencement  of  1602,  and  first 
acted  in  the  spring  or  early  summer  of  the  latter  year."  The 
first  edition  of  the  play  was  issued  in  the  year  1603,  under  the 
following  title  : — 

"  The  Tragical  History  of  Hamlet,  Prince  of  Denmark,  ly 
William  Shakespeare,  as  it  hath  been  divers  times  acted  ly  His 
Highness'  Servants  in  the  City  of  London,  also,  in  the  two  Univer- 
sities of  Cambridge  and  Oxford,  and  elsewhere.  At  London,  printed 
for  N.  L.  and  John  Trundell,  1603." 

"  There  is  an  entry  of  this  play  for  publication,"  says  Hunter, 
"  on  the  books  of  the  Stationers'  Company,  under  date  of  July 
26th,  1602."  From  the  title-page,  as  above,  it  seems  to  have 
been  several  times  acted,  and  the  testimony  of  Harvey,  cited  by 
Steevens,  seems  to  be  decisive  of  the  existence  of  a  play  called 
'"  Hamlet,"  in  1598,  and  to  the  fact  of  that  play  having  been 
written  by  the  same  hand  which  produced  "  Venus  and  Adonis," 
and  the  "  Rape  of  Lucrece." 

"  During  the  first  ten  years  of  Shakespeare's  dramatic  career," 
says  Dowden,  "  he  wrote  quickly,  producing,  if  we  suppose  he 
commenced  authorship  at  the  age  of  twenty-six  (1590),  some 
eight  or  nine  comedies,  and  the  whole  of  the  great  series  of 
English  historical  dramas,  which,  when  Henry  V.  was  written, 
Shakespeare  probably  looked  upon  as  complete.  In  this  decade 
only  a  single  tragedy  appears,  '  Romeo  and  Juliet.'  This  play 


398    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

is  believed  to  have  occupied  our  poet's  attention  for  several 
years,  but  dissatisfied,  probably,  with  the  first  form  which  it  as- 
sumed, he  worked  upon  it  again,  rewriting  and  enlarging  it. 
But  it  is  not  unlikely  that,  even  then,  he  considered  his  powers 
to  be  insufficiently  matured  for  the  great  dealing,  as  an  artist, 
with  the  human  life  and  passion  which  tragedy  demands.  Then, 
after  an  interval  of  about  five  years,  a  second  tragedy,  f  Hamlet/ 
was  produced.  Over  ( Hamlet,'  as  over  '  Romeo  and  Juliet/ 
it  is  supposed  that  Shakespeare  laboured  long  and  carefully. 
Thus  it  came  about  that  Shakespeare,  at  nearly  forty  years  of 
age,  was  the  author  of  but  two  tragedies.-"  ] 

,  "The  exact  mode  of  the  preparation  of  this  tragedy,"  says 
Hunter,  "  will  probably  never  be  fully  ascertained.  Shakespeare 
seems  to  have  worked  upon  it  in  a  manner  different  from  his 
usual  practice.  We  discover  not  only  that  large  additions  were 
made  to  the  play  after  it  had  been  presented  at  the  theatres,  but 
that  very  material  changes  were  made  in  the  distribution  of  the 
scenes  and  the  order  of  events.  This  seems  to  show  that  there 
was  no  period  when  the  poet  sat  down  to  his  work,  having  a 
settled  project  in  his  mind,  and  meaning  to  work  out  the  design 
continuously  from  the  opening  to  the  catastrophe ;  and  this  may 
be,  after  all,  the  true  reason  of  the  difficulty  which  has  always 
been  felt,  of  determining  what  the  character  really  is,  in  which 
the  poet  meant  to  invest  the  hero  of  the  piece.  It  may  account 
also  for  the  introduction  of  the  scenes  which  appear  to  have  been 
written  for  the  sake  of  themselves  alone ;  beautiful  in  themselves, 
but  neither  necessary  for  the  maintenance  of  a  general  harmony 
in  the  whole,  nor  for  the  carrying  on  the  business  of  the  story. 
To  this  want  of  continuity  in  the  composition  of  the  piece,  is  also 
to  be  attributed  the  great  falling  off  in  the  latter  portions,  and 
the  lame  and  impotent  manner  in  which  what  ought  to  be  the 
grand  catastrophe,  is  brought  about.  .  .  .  Had  the  poet 
proceeded  continuously,  according  to  what  (from  this  opening) 
may  be  concluded  to  have  been  his  first  design,  and  shown  us  the 
young  prince  made  acquainted  with  his  father's  death  by  the 
supernatural  visitation,  and,  at  the  same  time,  engaged  to  avenge 
it  on  his  uncle, — this,  with  such  an  underplot  as  is  here  wrought 
in  of  his  attachment  to  Ophelia,  the  effect  of  his  assumed  mad- 

1  Dowden's  "  Shakespeare's  Mind  and  Art,"  pp.  95—98.     King  and  Co., 
London,  1875. 


"Hamlet? 


399 


ness  upon  her,  the  impediments  arising  out  of  this  attachment, 
to  the  execution  of  the  main  purpose,  would  have  formed  the 
plot  of  as  magnificent  a  tragedy  as  hath  ever  been  conceived 
from  the  days  when  first  the  more  awful  passions  were  repre- 
sented on  the  stage."  2 

The  question  whether  Hamlet's  madness  was  real  or  assumed, 
has  elicited  a  greater  amount  of  dispute  among  the  commentators 
than  any  other  problem  in  our  poet's  works,  and  upon  this  point 
the  transcendental  German  Shakspearians  have  hung  more  illu- 
sory theories  than  upon  all  other  disputed  points  of  our  poet's 
philosophy  combined.  Indeed,  could  the  spirit  of  the  Sweet 
Swan  of  Avon  revisit  the  glimpses  of  our  moon,  and  be  asked 
to  review  and  pass  its  judgment  upon  the  multitudinous  mean- 
ings of  which  the  critics  have  accused  his  obscurer  paragraphs,  it 
would  probably  be  glad  to  vanish  back  and  submit  with  com- 
parative satisfaction  to  a  few  weeks  of  fresh  fires  in  supple- 
mentary purgation,  rather  than  follow  the  toilsome  task  to  its 
perplexing  end. 

Kenny  in  treating  of  the  madness  question,  shrewdly  says, 
"  that  the  dramatist  has  sometimes  run  closely  and  even  inex- 
tricably together  the  feigned  madness  and  the  real  mental  per- 
turbation of  Hamlet.  We  should  have  had  no  difficulty,"  he 
continues,  "  in  accepting  this  representation  of  the  character,  if 
it  were  only  consistently  maintained.  It  would  even,  under  the 
circumstances,  have  been  perfectly  natural ;  but  we  find  that,  in 
his  real  mood,  Hamlet  retains  throughout  the  drama,  as  through- 
out the  story,  the  perfect  possession  of  his  faculties;  his  only 
confidant,  Horatio,  must  feel  quite  assured  upon  that  point,  and 
we  are  compelled,  in  spite  of  a  few  equivocal  passages,  entirely 
to  share  his  conviction/'  This  view  of  Kenny's  is,  in  my 
opinion,  the  correct  one,  for  had  Shakespeare  intended  to  repre- 
sent Hamlet  as  being  actually  mad,  the  fact  could  not  have  been 
concealed  from  Horatio,  who  possessed  his  entire  confidence,  and 
on  whom  he  depended  till  the  last.  There  are  several  other 
reasons  supporting  this  conclusion,  but  they  have  been  so  often 
given  it  is  not  necessary  I  should  repeat  them. 

The  truth  is,  as  Dowden  states  it,  that  "  Shakespeare  created 
Hamlet  a  mystery,  and,  therefore,  it  is  for  ever  suggestive  and 

*  "  Hunter/'  vol.  ii.  p.  206. 


400  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

never  wholly  explicable."  I  should  rather  put  it  that  Shake- 
speare conceived  his  idea  of  the  character  of  Hamlet  in  a  mystified 
and  confused  sort  of  mood ;  that  he  worked  upon  it  for  a  long 
while  without  re-shaping  his  initial  errors,  and  that,  while 
enriching  it  with  casual  beauties,  he  kept  on  loading  it  with  new 
errors  and  fresh  contradictions.  Every  writer  accustomed  to 
much  composition,  knows  that  if  one  does  not  start  with  a  clear 
and  definite  conception,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  become  clear 
afterward,  even  by  the  most  laborious  efforts  of  subsequent 
pruning  or  development.  "Now,  it  is  a  remarkable  circum- 
stance/'' says  Dowden,  "  that,  while  the  length  of  the  play,  in 
the  second  quarto,  considerably  exceeds  its  length  in  the  earlier 
form  of  1603,  and  thus  materials  for  the  interpretation  of  Shake- 
speare's purpose  in  the  play  are  offered  in  greater  abundance,  the 
obscurity  does  not  diminish,  but,  on  the  contrary,  deepens,  and, 
if  some  questions  appear  to  be  solved,  other  questions  in  greater 
number  spring  into  existence."  It  is  not  likely,  therefore,  that 
this  mystery,  contradiction,  and  uncertainty  in  Hamlet's  cha- 
racter could  have  proceeded  from  the  mind  of  Sir  Francis  Bacon, 
who  was  always  clear,  congruous,  explicit  and  unmistakeable  in 
his  meaning,  as  the  prince  of  logicians  and  demonstrators  was 
sure  to  be. 

But  it  is  this  dreamy  confusion,  this  romantic  uncertainty  of 
mood,  which  gives  to  the  German  critics  their  vast  opportunities 
for  speculation  and  display.  Some  of  them  have  told  us  that 
they  cannot  account  for  the  wonderful  charm  of  this  play  above 
all  the  others  of  our  author,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  the  secret  of 
the  great  interest  which  the  kind-hearted  general  public  take  in 
the  character  of  Hamlet,  lies  in  the  wrongs  which  he  suffered, 
and  the  filial  gentleness  and  religious  subordination  he  exhibits 
in  receiving  the  command  and  exhortations  of  his  father's  ghost. 
He  is  the  disinherited  prince  of  the  fairy  tale,  whom  we  love 
because  he  has  been  betrayed,  and  in  whom  our  interest  increases 
as  misfortune  falls  upon  him.  There  is  no  witchcraft  and  no 
wonder  in  all  this,  as  human  nature  when  unbiassed  by  self- 
interest  is  inherently  and  invariably  good.  The  preference  which 
the  German  critics  show  for  Hamlet  is  probably  due  to  the 
mystery  which  our  poet  has  allowed  to  dwell  with  the  character, 
after  all  his  endeavours  to  lift  himself  out  of  the  contradictions 
of  his  first  sketch.  But,  as  the  Germans  claim,  and,  as  Mezieres 


"Hamlet"  401 

and  other  French  critics  admit,  Hamlet  represents  the  German 
national  mind,  and  Elze  declares  that  Freiligrath,  one  of  the 
German  commentators,  was  right  in  exclaiming,  "  Germany  is 
Hamlet!"3 

The  German  commentators,  as  a  rule,  do  not  favour,  or,  I 
might  rather  say,  will  not  tolerate  the  idea  of  Shakespeare 
being  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  even  honest  and  straightforward 
Gervinius  is  willing  to  contribute  a  gentle  little  artifice  to  mis- 
lead us  on  this  point.  In  analyzing  the  character  of  the  melan- 
choly prince,  he  remarks,  (C  He  is  essentially  a  man  of  letters  ; 
he  carries  memorandum  books  with  him ;  allusions  to  his  reading 
are  ready  to  him ;  in  advanced  years  he  was  still  at  the  university, 
and  longs  to  return  there;  not  like  Laertes,  to  Paris,  but  at  Wit- 
tenberg, a  name  honoured  by  the  Protestant  hearts  of  England"  4 

The  obvious  object  of  this  latter  expression  is  to  suggest  that 
Wittenberg,  during  Hamlet's  period,  was  a  Protestant  seat  of 
learning,  and  that  he  consequently  was  a  Protestant.  But  this 
pleasant  little  artifice  cannot  prevail,  as  the  Danish  historian, 
who  first  wrote  the  story  of  Hamlet,  died  in  1204.  The  theory 
of  the  inuendo  also  meets  with  an  equally  potent  difficulty  in  the 
fact  that,  if  the  Prince  had  been  educated  in  a  Protestant  academy, 
its  religious  formula  vanished  with  a  singular  rapidity,  while  his 
mind,  at  the  same  time,  became  imbued  with  the  Catholic  ritual 
with  a  suddenness  akin  to  magic. 

The  whole  of  the  first  act  is  filled  with  Eoman  Catholic 
doctrine,  imagery,  and  reference.  The  theory  of  purgatory  and 
exorcism  are  conspicuously  declared  upon  the  entrance  into 
the  first  scene  of  the  unsettled  Ghost,  by  the  exclamation  of 
Marcellus : — 

Thou  art  a  scholar,  speak  to  it,  Horatio ! 

But  the  Ghost  will  not  be  spoken  to,  and  vanishes  with  all  the 
dignity  of,  sepulchral  reserve.  It  soon  re-enters,  apparently  in 
search  of  Hamlet,  but  it  again  refuses  to  reply  to  the  question  of 
Horatio,  and  disappears  at  the  crowing  of  the  cock.  Thereupon 
Horatio  and  Marcellus  give  the  following  exposition  of  the 
Catholic  theory  of  purgatory  : — 

"  Elze,"  page  246.    London,  McMillan  and  Co.,  1874 
4  Gervinius  on  "  Shakespeare,"  p.  567.     Scribner  and  Co.,  New  York. 


402  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

MAE.      'Tis  gone ! 

We  do  it  wrong,  being  so  majestical, 

To  offer  it  the  show  of  violence ; 

For  it  is,  as  the  air,  invulnerable, 

And  our  vain  blows  malicious  mockery. 
BEE.       It  was  about  to  speak,  when  the  cock  crew. 
HOE.       And  then  it  started  like  a  guilty  thing 

Upon  a  fearful  summons.     I  have  heard 

The  cock,  that  is  the  trumpet  to  the  morn, 

Doth  with  his  lofty  and  shrill-sounding  throat 

Awake  the  god  of  day  ;  and,  at  his  warning, 

Whether  in  sea  or  fire,  in  earth  or  air, 

The  extravagant  and  erring  spirit  hies 

To  his  confine :  and  of  the  truth  herein 

This  present  object  made  probation. 
MAE.       It  faded  on  the  crowing  of  the  cock. 

Some  say,  that  ever  'gainst  that  season  comes 

Wherein  our  Saviour's  birth  is  celebrated, 

The  bird  of  dawning  singeth  all  night  long : 

And  then,  they  say,  no  spirit  can  walk  abroad ; 

The  nights  are  wholesome  ;  then  no  planets  strike, 

No  fairy  takes,  nor  witch  hath  power  to  charm, 

So  hallow 'd  and  so  gracious  is  the  time. 
HOE.       So  have  I  heard,  and  do  in  part  believe  it. 

Bat,  look,  the  morn,  in  russet  mantle  clad, 

Walks  o'er  the  dew  of  yon  high  eastern  hill : 

Break  we  our  watch  up ;  and,  by  my  advice, 

Let  us  impart  what  we  have  seen  to-night 

Unto  young  Hamlet :  for,  upon  my  life, 

This  spirit,  dumb  to  us,  will  speak  to  him. 

The  above  scene  is  intricately  Catholic,  from  first  to  last. 
In  the  second  scene  of  the  same  Act,  Hamlet  says, — 

O,  that  this  too,  too  solid  flesh  would  melt, 
Thaw,  and  resolve  itself  into  a  dew ! 
Or  that  the  Everlasting  had  not  fix'd 
His  canon  'gainst  self-slaughter ! 

Catholics,  as  we  have  said  before,  do  not  extend  the  funeral 
rites  of  the  church  to  suicides,  nor  permit  them  to  be  buried  in 
consecrated  ground.  Protestants,  on  the  other  hand,  do  not 
trouble  themselves  much  about  the  matter.  At  the  end  of  this 
soliloquy  Hamlet  expresses  another  Catholic  dogma,  in  the 
imputation  of  incest  for  marriage  with  a  deceased  brother's 
wife : — 


"  Hamlet"  403 

Within  a  month ; 

Ere  yet  the  salt  of  most  unrighteous  tears 
Had  left  the  flushing  of  her  galled  eyes, 
She  married.    0  most  wicked  speed  to  pos 
With  such  dexterity  to  incestuous  sheets  ; 
It  is  not,  nor  it  cannot  come  to,  good. 

Again,  we  find  this  thoroughly  Catholic  doctrine  enunciated 
repeatedly  in  the  scenes  between  Hamlet  and  the  Ghost. 

Enter  GHOST. 

HOE.  Look  my  lord,  it  comes  ! 

HAM.      Angels  and  ministers  of  grace  defend  us  ! 5 

Be  thou  a  spirit  of  health  or  goblin  damn'd, 

Bring  with  thee  airs  from  heaven  or  blasts  from  hell, 

Be  thy  intents  wicked  or  charitable, 

TJwu  comst  in  such  a  questionable  shape, 

That  I  will  speak  to  thee;  I'll  call  thee  Hamlet, 

King,  father,  royal  Dane :  0,  answer  me : 

Let  me  not  burst  in  ignorance !  but  tell, 

Why  thy  canonized  bones,  hearsed  in  death, 

Save  burst  their  cerements  ?  why  the  sepulchre 

Wherein  we  saiv  thee  quietly  in-urnd, 

Hath  oped  his  ponderous  and  marble  jaws, 

To  cast  thee  up  again  !     What  may  this  mean, 

That  thou,  dead  corse,  again,  in  complete  steel, 

Kevisit'st  thus  the  glimpses  of  the  moon, 

Making  night  hideous ;  and  we  fools  of  nature, 

So  horribly  to  shake  our  disposition, 

With  thoughts  beyond  the  reaches  of  our  souls  ? 

Say,  why  is  this  ?  wherefore  ?  what  should  we  do  ? 
HOE.      It  beckons  you  to  go  away  with  it, 

As  if  it  some  impartment  did  desire 

To  you  alone. 
MAE.  Look,  with  what  courteous  action 

It  waves  you  to  a  more  removed  ground : 

But  do  not  go  with  it. 
HOE.  No,  by  no  means. 


5  "  It  is  quite  fair  to  ask  whether  such  an  exclamation  would  come  more 
easily  into  a  Catholic  poet's  head  or  into  that  of  a  Protestant  poet  ?  A 
Protestant  thinks,  and  probably  always  did  think,  that  the  right  thing  to 
do  is  always  to  go  directly  to  God  for  help :  indeed,  one  does  not  see  what 
he  wants  a  mediator  for  at  all.  But  a  Catholic's  natural  resource  in  danger, 
is  to  angels  and  other  ministers  of  grace." — London  Catholic  Progress  of 
April,  1875. 


404  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

HAM.      It  will  not  speak ;  then  I  will  follow  it. 

HOE.      Do  not,  my  lord. 

HAM.  Why,  what  should  be  the  fear  ? 

I  do  not  set  my  life  at  a  pin's  fee ; 

And  for  my  soul,  what  can  it  do  to  that, 

Being  a  thing  immortal  as  itself? 

It  waves  me  forth  again ;— I'll  follow  it.  [Exit. 

Scene  5. — Another  Part  of  the  Platform. 

Enter  GHOST  and  HAMLET. 

HAM.      Whither  wilt  thou  lead  me  ?  speak,  I'll  go  no  farther. 
GHOST.  Mark  me. 
HAM.  I  will. 

GHOST.  My  hour  is  almost  come, 

When  I  to  sulphurous  and  tormenting  flames 

Must  render  up  myself. 

HAM.  Alas,  poor  ghost. 

GHOST.  Pity  me  not ;  but  lend  thy  serious  hearing 

To  what  I  shall  unfold. 

HAM.  Speak ;  I  am  bound  to  hear. 

GHOST.  So  art  thou  to  revenge,  when  thou  shalt  hear. 
HAM.     What? 
GHOST.  I  am  thy  father  s  spirit : 

Doom  d  for  a  certain  time  to  walk  the  night, 

And  for  the  day  confined  to  lasting  fires, 

Till  the  foul  crimes,  done  in  my  days  of  nature. 

Are  burnt  and  purged  away.     But  that  I  am  forbid 

To  tell  the  secrets  of  my  prison  house, 

I  could  a  tale  unfold,  whose  lightest  word 

Would  harrow  up  thy  soul,  freeze  thy  young  blood, 

Make  thy  two  eyes  like  stars  start  from  their  spheres, 

Thy  knotted  and  combined  locks  to  part, 

And  each  particular  hair  to  stand  an-end, 

Like  quills  upon  the  fretful  porcupine : 

But  this  eternal  blazon  must  not  be 

To  ears  of  flesh  and  blood.— List,  list,  0  list  !— 

If  thou  didst  ever  thy  dear  father  love, — 
HAM.     OGod! 

GHOST.  Eevenge  his  foul  and  most  unnatural  murder. 
HAM.      Murder  ? 
GHOST.  Murder  most  foul,  as  in  the  best  it  is ; 

But  this  most  foul,  strange,  and  unnatural. 
HAM.    Haste  me  to  know 't,  that  I,  with  wings  as  swift 

As  meditation,  or  the  thoughts  of  love, 

May  sweep  to  my  revenge. 
GHOST.  I  find  thee  apt; 

And  duller  shouldst  thou  be,  than  the  fat  weed 


"  Hamlet"  405 


That  rots  itself  in  ease  on  Lethe's  wharf, 
Wouldst  thou  not  stir  in  this  :  now,  Hamlet,  hear. 
'Tis  given  out,  that  sleeping  in  mine  orchard, 
A  serpent  stung  me :  so  the  whole  ear  of  Denmark 
Is  by  a  forged  process  of  my  death 
Rankly  abused  ;  but  know,  thou  noble  youth, 
The  serpent  that  did  sting  thy  father's  life 
Now  wears  his  crown. 

HAM.          0,  my  prophetic  soul !  my  uncle  ? 

GHOST.       Ay,  that  incestuous,  that  adulterate  beast, 

*  #  * 

Thus  was  I,  sleeping,  by  a  brother's  hand, 
Of  life,  of  crown,  of  queen,  at  once  despoiled ; 
Cut  off  even  in  the  blossom  of  my  sin, 
Unhousel'd,  disappointed,  unaneled :  6 
No  reckoning  made,  but  sent  to  my  account 
With  all  my  imperfections  on  my  head  : 
O,  horrible  !  O,  horrible  !  most  horrible  !  1 
If  thou  hast  nature  in  thee,  bear  it  not ; 
Let  not  the  royal  bed  of  Denmark  be 
A  couch  for  luxury  and  damned  incest. 
But,  howsoever  thou  pursuest  this  act, 
Taint  not  thy  mind,  nor  let  thy  soul  contrive 
Against  thy  mother  aught :  leave  her  to  heaven, 
And  to  those  thorns  that  in  her  bosom  lodge, 
To  prick  and  sting  her.     Fare  thee  well  at  once. 
The  glow-worm  shows  the  matin  to  be  near, 
And  'gins  to  pale  his  uneffe'ctual  fire : 
Adieu  !  adieu  !  Hamlet,  remember  me.  [Exit. 

HAM.  O,  all  you  host  of  heaven  !  0  earth  !    What  else  ? 

In  Act  II.  Scene  2,  Polonius,  while  endeavouring  to  explain 
the  character  of  Hamlet's  madness  to  the  Queen,  uses  the  follow- 
ing language : — 

And  now  remains, 

That  we  find  out  the  cause  of  this  effect ; 
Or,  rather  say,  the  cause  of  this  defect ; 
For  this  effect  defective,  comes  by  cause : 

"  These  lines/'  says  the  Catholic  Progress  (London),  for  April, 
1875,  "  look  very  like  a  reference  by  the  author  to  St.  Augustine, 
not  unlikely  to  have  been  culled  from  some  Catholic  book  of 

6  According  to  Hunter,  this  means  without  the  viaticum  and  last  sacra- 
ment of  extreme  unction ;  though  he  is  inclined  to  change  the  word  "  dis- 
appointed" into  "  unassoiled,"  or  "  unabsolved." 

7  This  is  pure  Catholic  agony  at  the  idea  of  the  pains  of  purgatory. 

27 


406  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

devotion."  And  to  this  I  may  suggest  that  Shakespeare's 
devout  mother,  Mary  Arden,  must  have  had  constantly  some 
such  book  of  religious  discipline  always  within  the  boy's  reach, 
about  the  house.  "  St.  Augustine  says  that,  to  look  for  causes 
of  ^flection  from  good,  seeing  that  they  are  deficient  and  not 
^/"ficient,  is  much  the  same  as  wishing  to  see  darkness,  or  to  hear 
silence/' 

In  the  opening  of  the  third  act,  we  have  the  singular  scene 
of  feigned  madness  and  real  distraction,  which  takes  place 
between  Hamlet  and  Ophelia;  in  which  scene,  perceiving  that 
the  weak,  docile  girl  is  playing  the  spy  upon  him,  at  the  direction 
of  her  father,  and  has  told  him  a  falsehood  in  the  interest  of 
those  against  him,  he  harshly  orders  her  off  to  a  nunnery, — the 
inevitable  refuge  for  our  poet's  distressful  heroines, — in  a  tone 
which,  I  cannot  but  think,  was  largely  justified  by  her  petty  per- 
fidy. I  have  already  remarked,  when  treating  of l '  Love's  Labour's 
Lost,"  "  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,"  "  Measure  for  Measure," 
"  Merchant  of  Venice,"  "  Comedy  of  Errors,"  and  other  plays, 
Shakespeare's  habit  of  sending  all  of  his  disappointed  ladies  to 
nunneries.  That  course  could  hardly  be  attributed  to  Lord 
Bacon,  or  regarded  as  a  Protestant  proclivity. 

We  have  further  evidences  of  the  Catholic  tone  and  colour  of 
our  author's  mind,  in  the  memorable  scene  between  Hamlet  and 
his  mother  in  this  same  act.  The  Ghost  appears,  but  she  does 
not  see  it,  and  upon  its  disappearance,  she  charges  the  vision 
to  her  agitated  son's  distraught  condition  : — 

HAMLET.  Mother,  for  love  of  grace, 

Lay  not  that  flattering  unction  to  your  soul, 
That  not  your  trespass,  but  my  madness  speaks  : 
It  will  but  skin  and  film  the  ulcerous  place ; 
Whiles  rank  corruption  mining  all  within, 
Infects  unseen.     Confess  yourself  to  heaven  ; 
Repent  what's  past :  avoid  what  is  to  come  : 
And  do  not  spread  the  compost  on  the  weeds, 
To  make  them  ranker. 

Let  me  not  pass  over,  at  this  point,  the  first  exclamation  of 
Hamlet,  at  the  opening  of  the  above  scene,  when,  seeing  the 
Ghost  enter,  he  exclaims, — 

A  king  of  shreds  and  patches : 


"  Hamlet."  407 

Save  me  and  hover  o'er  me  with  your  wings, 
You  heavenly  guard  ! 

This,  again,  exhibits  the  Catholic  tendency  toward  the  inter- 
mediation of  the  saints. 

We  come  now,  in  the  progress  of  this  act,  to  Shakespeare's 
adoration  for  royalty,  and  contemptuous  estimation  of  the 
"  common  people." 

The  cease  of  majesty 

Dies  not  alone  ;  but,  like  a  gulf,  doth  draw 
What's  near  it,  with  it :  it  is  a  massy  wheel, 
Fix'd  on  the  summit  of  the  highest  mount, 
To  whose  huge  spokes  ten  thousand  lesser  things 
Are  mortised  and  adjoin'd ;  which,  when  it  falls, 
Each  small  annexment,  petty  consequence, 
Attends  the  boist'rous  ruin.     Never  alone 
Did  the  king  sigh,  but  with  a  general  groan. 

Act  III.  Scene  3. 
Act  IV.  Scene  3. 
Enter  KING  attended. 

KING.      I  have  sent  to  seek  him,  and  to  find  the  body. 
How  dangerous  is  it,  that  this  man  goes  loose  ! 
Yet  must  not  we  put  the  strong  law  on  him  : 
He's  loved  of  the  distracted  multitude, 
Who  like  not  in  their  judgment,  but  their  eyes  ; 
And  where  'tis  so,  tfie  offender's  scourge  is  weigh'd, 
Eut  never  the  offence. 

Scene  5. 

The  people  muddied, 

Thick  and  unwholesome  in  their  thoughts  and  whispers, 
For  good  Polonius'  death  : — 

*  *  * 

GENTLEMAN  (to  the  King).  Save  yourself,  my  lord ; 
The  ocean  over-peering  of  his  list, 
Eats  not  the  flats  with  more  impetuous  haste, 
Than  young  Laertes,  in  a  riotous  head, 
O'erbears  your  officers  ;  The  rabble  call  him  lord  ; 
And  as  the  world  were  now  but  to  begin, 
Antiquity  forgot,  custom  not  known, 
The  ratifiers  and  props  of  every  word, 
They  cry,  Choose  we  ;  Laertes  shall  be  king  ! 
Caps,9  hands,  and  tongues,  applaud  it  to  the  clouds, 
Laertes  shall  be  king,  Laertes  king  ! 

8  Caps  are  always  the  symbol  with  Shakespeare  of  the  labouring  classes, 
from  the  fact  that  an  Act  of  Parliament  was  passed  towards  the  close  of  the 


408  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

QUEEN.    How  cheerfully  on  the  false  trail  they  cry ! 
0,  this  is  counter,  you  false  Danish  dogs. 

Enter  LAEETES,  armed,  Danes  folloioing. 
KING.      What  is  the  cause,  Laertes, 

That  thy  rebellion  looks  so  giant-like  ? — 

Let  him  go,  Gertrude  ;  do  not  fear  our  person  ; 

There's  suck  divinity  doth  hedge  a  Icing, 

That  treason  can  but  peep  to  what  it  would, 

Acts  little  of  his  will.. — Tell  me,  Laertes, 

Why  thou  art  thus  incensed ; — Let  him  go,  Gertrude. 


The  opening  of  the  fifth  act  brings  us  to  what  is  regarded, 
by  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell,  as  the  most  complete  piece  of 
evidence  of  the  legal  acquirements  of  Shakespeare,  to  be  found  in 
all  his  works.  I  allude  to  the  law  in  regard  tojfelo  de  se}  which 
is  developed  so  curiously,  and  yet  so  correctly,  by  the  two  grave- 
diggers  in  their  humorous  discussion  in  the  churchyard,  over  the 
question  whether  the  drowned  Ophelia  is  entitled  to  Christian 
burial.  The  pathetic  description  of  her  death,  by  the  unhappy 
queen,  who  assuredly  'was  not  all  bad,  comes  properly  in  at  this 
point : — 

QUEEN.  There  is  a  willow  grows  aslant  the  brook, 

That  shows  his  hoar  leaves  in  the  glassy  stream  ; 

There  with  fantastic  garlands  did  she  make 

Of  crow-flowers,  nettles,  daisies,  and  long  purples, 

That  liberal  shepherds  give  a  grosser  name, 

But  our  cold  maids  do  dead  men's  fingers  call  them ; 

There  on  the  pendant  boughs  her  coronet  weeds 

Clambering  to  hang,  an  envious  sliver  broke ; 

When  down  her  weedy  trophies,  and  herself, 

Fell  in  the  weeping  brook.     Her  clothes  spread  wide  ; 

And,  mermaid-like,  a  while  they  bore  her  up  : 

Which  time,  she  chanted  snatches  of  old  tunes ; 

As  one  incapable  of  her  own  distress, 

Or  like  a  creature  native  and  indued 

Unto  that  element :  but  long  it  could  not  be, 

Till  that  her  garments,  heavy  with  their  drink, 


fifteenth  century,  requiring  all  mechanics  and  labouring  men  to  wear  caps. 
Hence,  the  line  of  Rosalind,  in  As  You  Like  It : — 

"  Well,  better  wits  have  worn  plain  statute  caps  ;  " 

And  hence,  also,  the  Liberty  cap  of  the  old  French  Revolution,  which  meant 
liberty  for  the  masses. 


"  Hamlet^ 


409 


Pull'd  the  poor  wretch  from  her  melodious  lay 

To  muddy  death.  Act  IV.  Scene  7. 

The  doubt  which  this  throws  upon  the  poor  girl's  intention, 
narrowly  admits  her  to  the  jealous  rights  of  Catholic  burial,  and 
saves  her  body  from  being  condemned  by  the  English  law,  (for 
Shakespeare's  law  is  always  English,)  from  being  buried  in  a 
cross-road,  with  a  stake  driven  through  it.  We  find  this  doc- 
trine, both  of  the  Church  and  of  the  statute,  exhibited  in  the 
following  scene  at  the  grave,  in  which  Laertes  protests,  to  the 
officiating  priest,  against  the  religious  meagreness  of  the  cere- 
mony which  is  grudgingly  allowed  to  his  dead  sister  : — 

LAEE.      What  ceremony  else 

PEIEST.    Her  obsequies  have  been  so  far  enlarged 

As  we  have  warranty :  Her  death  was  doubtful ; 
And,  but  that  great  command  o'er-sways  the  order, 
She  should  in  ground  unsanctified  have  lodged 
Till  the  last  trumpet ;  for  charitable  prayers, 
Shards,  flints,  and  pebbles,  should  be  thrown  on  her. 
Yet  here  she  is  allow'd  her  virgin  rites, 
Her  maiden  strewments,  and  the  bringing  home 
Of  bell  and  burial. 

LAEB.      Must  there  no  more  be  done  ? 

PEIEST.  No  more  be  done ! 

We  should  profane  the  service  of  the  dead, 
To  sing  a  requiem,  and  such  rest  to  her, 
As  to  peace-parted  souls. 

LAEE.  Lay  her  i'  the  earth  ;— 

And  from  her  fair  and  unpolluted  flesh 
May  violets  spring  ! — I  tell  thee,  churlish  priest, 
A  minist'ring  angel  shall  my  sister  be, 
When  thou  liest  howling.  Act  V.  Scene  1. 

The  scene  between  the  two  grave-diggers  in  comic  discussion 
of  the  law,  both  of  the  Church  and  of  the  statute,  concerning 
felo  de  se,  presents  itself  properly  at  this  point : — 

Enter  Two  CLOWNS,  with  spades,  Sfc. 

1  CLO.  Is  she  to  be  buried  in  Christian  burial,  that  wilfully  seeks  her  own 
salvation  ? 

2  CLO.  I  tell  thee,  she  is ;  therefore  make  her  grave  straight :  the  crowner 
hath  set  on  her,  and  finds  it  Christian  burial. 

1  CLO.  How  can  that  be,  unless  she  drowned  herself  in  her  own  defence  ? 

2  CLO.  Why,  'tis  found  so. 

1  CLO.  It  must  be  se  offendendo  ;  it  cannot  be  else.     For  here  lies  the 


4io  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

point :  If  I  drown  myself  wittingly,  it  argues  an  act :  and  an  act  has  three 
branches ;  it  is,  to  act,  to  do,  and  to  perform :  Argal,  she  drowned  herself 
wittingly. 

2  CLO.  Nay,  but  hear  you,  goodman  delver. 

1  CLO.  Give  me  leave.     Here  lies  the  water  ;  good :  here  stands  the  man ; 
good :  If  the  man  go  to  this  water,  and  drown  himself,  it  is,  will  he,  nill  he, 
he  goes ;  mark  you  that :  but  if  the  water  come  to  him,  and  drown  him,  he 
drowns  not  himself:  Argal,  he  that  is  not  guilty  of  his  own  death,  shortens 
not  his  own  life. 

2  CLO.  But  is  this  law  ? 

1  CLO.  Ay,  marry  is 't ;  crowner's-quest  law. 

2  CLO.  Will  you  ha'  the  truth  on't  ?    If  this  had  not  been  a  gentle- 
woman, she  would  have  been  buried  out  of  Christian  burial. 

1  CLO.  Why,  there  thou  say'st :  And  the  more  pity ;  that  great  folks  shall 
have  countenance  in  this  world  to  drown  or  hang  themselves,  more  than  their 
even  Christian. — Act  V.  Scene  1. 

This  singular  scene,  and  the  amount  of  law  contained  in  it, 
notwithstanding  its  excessive  comicality,  could  not,  of  course, 
escape  the  scrutiny  of  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell,  and  he 
alludes  to  it  as  "the  mine/'  which  of  all  others  in  our  author 
"  produces  the  richest  legal  ore."  He  declares  that  the  discussion 
proves  "  that  Shakespeare  had  read  and  studied  Plowden's  report 
of  the  celebrated  case  of  Hales  v.  Petit,9  tried  in  the  reign  of 
Philip  and  Mary,  and  that  he  intended  to  ridicule  the  counsel 
who  argued,  and  the  judges  who  decided  it." 

His  lordship  describes  this  case  at  considerable  length,  but  as 
I  find  it  put  more  clearly  by  Judge  Holmes,  in  his  work  on  the 
"  Authorship  of  Shakespeare,"  I  will  adopt  that  version  of  the 
case  in  preference  to  the  version  of  his  lordship.  Judge  Holmes 


"Sir  James  Hales,  a  Judge  of  the  Common  Pleas,  having 
been  imprisoned  for  being  concerned  in  the  plot  to  place  Lady 
Jane  Grey  upon  the  throne,  and  afterwards  pardoned,  was  so 
affected  in  mind  as  to  commit  suicide  by  drowning  himself  in  a 
river.  The  coroner's  inquest  found  a  verdict  of  felo  de  se,  under 
which  his  body  was  to  be  buried  at  a  cross-road,  with  a  stake 
thrust  through  it,  and  his  goods  and  estates  were  forfeited  to  the 
crown.  A  knotty  question  arose  upon  the  suit  of  his  widow  for 
an  estate  by  survivorship  in  joint- tenancy,  whether  the  forfeiture 
could  be  considered  as  having  taken  place  in  the  lifetime  of  Sir 

9  Plowden's  Eeport,  p.  256-9. 


"Hamlet"  411 

James  Hales ;  for,  if  it  did  not,  she  took  the  estate  by  survivor- 
ship. 

"  Serjeant  Southcote  argued  for  the  lady,  that,  as  long  as  Sir 
James  was  alive,  he  had  not  killed  himself,  and  the  moment  that 
he  died,  the  estate  vested  in  the  plaintiff.  '  The  felony  of  the 
husband  shall  not  take  away  her  title  by  survivorship,  for  in  this 
manner  of  felony  two  things  are  to  be  considered:  First,  the 
cause  of  the  death ;  secondly,  the  death  ensuing  the  cause ;  and 
these  two  make  the  felony,  and  without  both  of  them  the  felony 
is  not  consummate,  and  the  cause  of  the  death  is  the  act  done  in 
the  party's  lifetime,  which  makes  the  death  to  follow,  and  the 
act  which  brought  on  the  death  here  was  the  throwing  himself 
voluntarily  into  the  water,  for  this  was  the  cause  of  his  death  ; 
and,  if  a  man  kills  himself  by  a  wound  which  he  gives  himself 
with  a  knife,  or,  if  Tie  Jiangs  himself,  as  the  wound  or  the  hanging, 
which  is  the  act  done  in  the  party's  lifetime,  is  the  cause  of  his 
death,  so  is  the  throwing  himself  into  the  water  here.  For,  as 
much  as  he  cannot  be  attainted  of  his  own  death,  because  he  is 
dead  before  there  is  any  time  to  attaint  him,  the  finding  of  his 
death  by  the  coroner  is,  by  necessity  of  law,  equivalent  to  an 
attainder,  in  fact,  coming  after  his  death.  He  cannot  befelo  de 
se  till  the  death  is  fully  consummate,  and  the  death  precedes  the 
felony  and  the  forfeiture.' 

"  Serjeant  Walsh,  on  the  other  side,  argued  that  the  forfeiture 
had  relation  to  the  act  done  in  the  party's  lifetime  which  was  the 
cause  of  his  death.  '  Upon  this,  the  parts  of  the  act  are  to  be 
considered  ;  and  the  act  consists  of  three  parts.  The  first  is  the 
imagination,  which  is  a  reflection  or  meditation  of  the  mind, 
whether  or  no  it  is  convenient  for  him  to  destroy  himself,  and 
what  way  it  can  be  done.  The  second  is  the  resolution,  which  is 
a  determination  of  the  mind  to  destroy  himself,  and  to  do  it  in 
this  or  that  particular  way.  The  third  is  the  perfection,  which 
is  the  execution  of  what  the  mind  has  resolved  to  do.  And  this 
perfection  consists  of  two  parts,  viz.,  the  beginning  and  the  end. 
The  beginning  is  the  doing  of  the  act  which  causes  the  death ; 
and  the  end  is  the  death,  which  is  only  a  sequel  to  the  act.  And 
of  all  the  parts,  the  doing  of  the  act  is  the  greatest  in  the  judg- 
ment of  our  law,  and  it  is,  in  effect,  the  whole.  The  doing  of  the 
act  is  the  only  point  which  the  law  regards  :  for,  until  the  act  is 
done,  it  cannot  be  an  offence  to  the  world,  and  when  the  act  is 


412  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

done,  it  is  punishable.  Inasmuch  as  the  person  who  did  the 
act  is  dead,  his  person  cannot  be  punished,  and,  therefore,  there 
is  no  way  else  to  punish  him  but  by  the  forfeiture  of  those  things 
which  were  his  own  at  the  time  of  his  death/ 

"  Bendloe  cited  a  case  in  which  f  a  heretic  wounded  himself 
mortally  with  a  knife,  and  afterwards  became  of  sound  mind,  and 
had  the  rights  of  Holy  Church,  and  after  died  of  the  said  wound, 
and  his  chattels  were  not  forfeited;'  and  Carus  cited  another, 
'  where  it  appears  that  one  who  had  taken  sanctuary  in  a  church 
was  out  in  the  night,  and  the  town  pursued  him,  and  the  felon 
defended  himself  with  clubs  and  stones,  and  would  not  render 
himself  to  the  king's  peace,  and  we  struck  off  his  head ;  and  the 
goods  of  the  person  killed  were  forfeited,  for  he  could  not  be 
arraigned,  because  he  was  killed  by  his  own  fault,  for  which 
reason,  upon  the  truth  of  the  matter  found,  his  goods  were 
forfeited.  Here  the  inquiry  before  the  coroner  super  visum 
corporis  ...  is  equivalent  to  a  judgment  given  against  him  in 
his  lifetime,  and  the  forfeiture  has  relation  to  the  act  which  was 
the  cause  of  his  death,  viz.,  the  throwing  himself  into  the 
water." 

"  Dyer,  C.  J.,  giving  the  opinion  of  the  Court,  said,  '  The 
forfeiture  shall  have  relation  to  the  act  done  by  Sir  James  Hales 
in  his  lifetime,  which  was  the  cause  of  his  death,  viz.,  the  throw- 
ing himself  into  the  water/  He  made  five  points — ( First,  the 
quality  of  the  offence;  secondly,  by  whom  the  offence  was  com- 
mitted; thirdly,  what  he  shall  forfeit;  fourthly,  from  what 
time ;  and  fifthly,  if  the  term  here  shall  be  taken  from  the  wife/ 
.  ...  As  to  the  second  point,  it  is  an  offence  against  nature, 
against  God,  and  against  the  king.  Against  nature,  ^of  every 
living  thing  does,  by  instinct  of  nature,  defend  itself  from  destruc- 
tion ;  and,  then,  to  destroy  one's  self  is  contrary  to  nature,  and 
a  thing  most  horrible.  Against  God,  in  that  it  is  a  breach  of 
his  commandment,  Thou  shalt  not  kill ;  and  to  kill  himself,  by 
which  he  kills,  in  presumption,  his  own  soul,  is  a  greater  offence 
than  to  kill  another.  Against  the  king,  in  that  hereby  he  has 
lost  a  subject,  and  (as  Brown  termed  it)  he  being  the  head,  has 
lost  one  of  his  mystical  members/  ....  It  was  agreed  by  all 
the  judges,  '  that  he  shall  forfeit  all  his  goods;  for  Brown  said 
the  reason  why  the  king  shall  have  the  goods  and  chattels  of  a 
felo  de  se  .  .  .  .  is  not  because  he  is  out  of  Holy  Church,  so  that, 


"Hamlet"  413 

for  that  reason,  the  bishop  will  not  meddle  with  them ;  .  .  .  . 
but  for  the  loss  of  his  subject,  and  for  the  breach  of  his  peace, 
and  for  the  evil  example  given  to  his  people,  and  not  in  respect 
that  Holy  Church  will  not  meddle  with  them,  for  lie  is  adjudged 
none  of  the  members  of  Holy  Church.9 

"  As  to  the  fourth  point,  viz.  to  what  time  the  forfeiture  shall 
have  relation ;  the  forfeiture  here  shall  have  relation  to  the  time 
of  the  original  offence  committed,  which  was  the  cause  of  the 
death,  and  that  was  the  throwing  himself  into  the  water,  which 

was  done  in  his  lifetime,  and  this  act  was  felony So  that 

the  felony  is  attributed  to  the  act,  which  is  always  done  by  a 
living  man,  and  in  his  lifetime ;  for  Sir  James  Hales  was  dead, 
and  how  came  he  to  his  death?  By  drowning.  And  who 
drowned  him?  Sir  James  Hales.  And  when  did  he  drown 
him  ?  In  his  lifetime.  So  that  Sir  James  Hales,  being  alive, 
caused  Sir  James  Hales  to  die ;  and  the  act  of  the  living  man 
was  the  death  of  the  dead  man.  But  how  can  he  be  said  to  be 
punished  alive,  when  the  punishment  comes  after  his  death? 
Sir,  this  can  ue  done  no  other  way  than  by  divesting  out  of  him 
his  title  and  property,  from  the  time  of  the  act  done  which  was 
the  cause  of  his  death,  viz.  the  throwing  himself  into  the  water." 

Lord  Campbell,  of  course,  argues  from  this  case  that  Shake- 
speare had  a  very  considerable  knowledge  of  the  law ;  and  Judge 
Holmes,  who  is  the  chief  expounder  of  the  Baconian  theory, 
says,— 

"A  careful  comparison  of  these  passages  may  satisfy  the 
critical  reader  that  the  author  of  the  play  had  certainly  read  this 
report  of  Plowden.  They  are  not  adduced  here  as  amounting  to 
proof  that  the  author  was  any  other  than  William  Shakespeare, 
but  rather  as  a  circumstance  bearing  upon  the  antecedent  pro- 
babilities of  the  case ;  for  there  is  not  the  slightest  ground  for  a 
belief,  on  the  facts  which  we  know,  that  Shakespeare  ever  looked 
into  Plowden's  Reports;  while  it  is  quite  certain  that  Francis 
Bacon,  who  commenced  his  legal  studies  at  Gray's  Inn  in  the 
very  next  year  after  the  date  of  Plowden's  preface,  did  have 
occasion  to  make  himself  familiar  with  that  work,  some  years 
before  the  appearance  of  "  Hamlet."  And  the  mode  of  reasoning 
and  the  manner  of  the  Report,  bordering  so  nearly  upon  the 
ludicrous,  would  be  sure  to  impress  the  memory  of  Bacon,  whose 
nature,  as  we  know,  was  singularly  capable  of  wit  and  humour." 


414  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

It  thus  appears,  according  to  Lord  Campbell  and  Judge 
Holmes,  that  the  author  of  "  Hamlet/'  whoever  he  was,  must 
have  read  this  Report  of  Plowden,  which  his  lordship,  who  is  the 
most  emphatic  of  the  two,  declares  he  not  only  must  have  read, 
but  studied.  Now,  I  am  not  so  positive  about  this  point,  though 
I  think  it  not  unlikely  that  both  of  them  are  right.  It  would 
have  been  very  natural  for  a  man  of  Shakespeare's  keen  sense  of 
the  ridiculous,  on  hearing  this  case  of  Hales  ?;.  Petit  discussed 
by  the  wits,  poets,  and  lawyers,  who  spent  their  hours  of  relaxa- 
tion in  the  bar-room  of  the  hospitable  "  Maiden/'  to  have  asked 
one  of  his  legal  friends  to  lend  him  Plowden  for  his  more  com- 
plete enjoyment  of  the  case ;  but  it  is  quite  as  likely  that  he 
acquired  a  full  knowledge  of  the  whole  of  it,  by  the  repeated 
discussions  and  heated  disputes  which  such  an  exceptional  pro- 
ceeding would  be  sure  to  have  given  rise  to  in  a  first-class 
London  tavern.  Doubtless,  it  was  re-acted  there,  after  the 
fashion  of  the  comic  trial-scene  between  Prince  Hal  and  Falstaff 
at  the  "Boar's  Head"  in  Eastcheap,  and  the  parts  of  Serjeants 
Southcote  and  Wright,  Chief  Justice  Dyer,  and,  possibly,  the 
dead  Sir  James  and  *Dame  Margaret  his  widow,  distributed 
among  the  tipplers  and  roysterers  of  the  occasion.  Certainly 
there  could  have  been  no  rarer  fun  to  such  a  mind  as  Shake- 
speare's ;  and  in  this  way,  perhaps,  its  comicality  became  trans- 
posed into' one  of  the  most  peculiar  productions  of  his  comic 
genius,  through  the  inimitable  and  immortal  dialogue  of  the 
grave-diggers.  On  the  other  hand,  while  Shakespeare  would 
have  been  sure  to  view  the  case  of  Hales  v.  Petit  in  its  most 
ludicrous  aspect,  and  to  have  embodied  it  accordingly,  I  think  it 
may  be  received  as  equally  certain,  that  the  mind  of  Bacon 
would  have  entertained  the  argument  only  with  the  gravity  of  a 
lawyer,  and  have  incarnated  it,  had  he  touched  it  at  all,  not  as  a 
piece  of  fun,  but  as  a  precedent  and  serious  authority. 

It  must  be  observed  also,  that  in  the  time  of  Shakespeare 
there  were  no  newspapers  for  the  circulation  of  current  infor- 
mation among  the  people.  The  art  of  printing  had  only  been 
devised  by  Caxton  in  1467,  barely  a  hundred  years  before,  and, 
though  an  octavo  printed  single  news-sheet  made  its  appearance 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  century,  it  contained  scarcely 
anything  beyond  a  few  advertisements  and  the  movements  of 
the  court.  London  taverns,  in  the  time  of  Shakespeare,  there- 


"Hamkt?  415 

fore,  were  the  resorts  of  lawyers,  scholars,  attorneys'  clerks,  and, 
sometimes,  of  judges  and  personages  of  very  high  degree.  The 
"  Mermaid,"  in  Bread  Street,  which  seems  to  have  been  the 
favourite  resort  of  our  poet,  was  frequented  by  a  club  founded 
by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh ;  and  here  Raleigh  himself,  Ben  Jonson, 
Beaumont,  Fletcher,  Shelden,  Cotton,  Carew,  Martin,  Donne, 
and  others,  their  chosen  companions,  met  for  social  and  convivial 
enjoyment — I  dare  not  add,  for  the  more  modern  solace  of  pipes 
and  tobacco,  because 

The  fat  weed 
That  rots  itself  in  ease  on  Lethe's  wharf, 

though  then  recently  brought  home  by  Raleigh,  had  not  yet 
fallen  into  common  use.1 

"  There  (says  Fuller)  all  the  students  of  the  literature  and 
manners  of  those  days  have  reasonably  agreed  in  placing  the 
scene  of  the  wit-combats  between  Shakespeare  and  Jonson,-"  the 
fame  of  which  had  reached  Fuller's  time,  and  caused  him  to 
imagine  the  encounter  of  the  two,  like  that  between  a  Spanish 
great  galleon  and  an  English  man-of-war;  Jonson,  like  the 
former,  built  far  higher  in  learning,  and  solid,  but  slow  in  his 
performances;  Shakespeare,  like  the  latter,  less  in  bulk,  but 
lighter  in  movement,  turning  and  tacking  nimbly,  and  taking 
every  advantage  by  the  quickness  of  his  wit  and  invention.2 

1  It  has  been  said  that  Shakespeare  never  gave  any  evidence  of  his  know- 
ledge of  tobacco  ;  but  I  think  that  "  The  fat  weed  which  rots  itself  in  ease 
on  Lethe's  wharf,"  is  a  distinct  reference  to  it. 

8  What  things  have  we  seen 

Done  at  the  "  Mermaid  " !  heai»d  words  that  have  been 

So  nimble,  and  so  full  of  subtle  flame, 

As  if  that  every  one  from  whom  they  came 

Had  meant  to  put  his  whole  wit  in  a  jest, 

And  had  resolved  to  live  a  fool  the  rest 

Of  his  dull  life  ;  then  when  there  hath  been  thrown 

Wit  able  enough  to  justify  the  town 

For  three  days  past,  wit  that  might  warrant  be 

For  the  whole  city  to  talk  foolishly 

Till  that  were  cancell'd,  and,  when  that  was  gone, 

We  left  an  air  behind  us  which  alone 

Was  able  to  make  the  two  next  companies 

Eight  witty,  though  but  downright  fools,  more  wise. 

Letter  to  Hen  Jonson. 


416    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

But  to  return  to  the  question  as  to  the  extent  of  Shakespeare's 
legal  acquirements,  I  think  that  Lord  Campbell  makes  a  much 
stronger  point  for  the  affirmative,  than  in  the  grave-diggers' 
scene,  when  he  says, — 

"  Hamlet's  own  speech,  on  taking  in  his  hand  what  he  sup- 
posed might  be  the  skull  of  a  lawyer,  abounds  with  lawyer-like 
thoughts  and  words  :" — 

Where  be  his  quiddits  now,  his  quillets,  his  cases,  his  tenures,  and  his 
tricks?  Why  does  he  suffer  this  rude  knave  now  to  knock  him  about 
the  sconce  with  a  dirty  shovel,  and  will  not  tell  him  of  his  action  of 
battery  ?  Humph !  This  fellow  might  be  in's  time  a  great  buyer  of  land, 
with  his  statutes,  his  recognizances,  his  fines,  his  double  vouchers,  his 
recoveries :  is  this  the  fine  of  his  fines,  and  the  recovery  of  his  recoveries,  to 
have  his  fine  pate  full  of  fine  dirt  ?  will  his  vouchers  vouch  him  no  more  of 
his  purchases,  and  double  ones  too,  than  the  length  and  breadth  of  a  pair  of 
indentures. 

"  These  terms  of  art/'  adds  his  lordship,  "  are  all  used  seem- 
ingly with  a  full  knowledge  of  their  import;  and  it  would 
puzzle  some  practising  barristers  with  whom  I  am  acquainted 
to  go  over  the  whole  seriatim,  and  to  define  each  of  them  satis- 
factorily." 

His  lordship  also  finds  in  the  following  allusion  to  the  dis- 
puted territory,  which  was  the  cause  of  war  between  Norway 
and  Poland,  a  substratum  of  law  in  Shakespeare's  mind  : — 

We  go  to  gain  a  little  patch  of  ground, 

That  hath  in  it  no  profit  but  the  name, 

To  pay  five  ducats,  five,  I  would  not  farm  it, 

Nor  will  it  yield  to  Norway  or  the  pole 

A  ranker  rate,  should  it  be  sold  in  fee. 

How  Shakespeare,  or  any  intelligent  tradesman  of  his  time, 
could  have  known  less  law  than  is  indicated  by  the  term  fee 
simple,  I  cannot  well  conceive. 

"Earlier  in  the  play,"  continues  his  lordship,  "Marcellus 
inquires  what  was  the  cause  of  the  warlike  preparations  in 
Denmark, — 

And  why  such  daily  cast  of  brazen  cannon, 
And  foreign  mart  for  implements  of  war  ? 
Why  such  impress  of  shipwrights,  whose  sore  task 
Does  not  divide  the  Sunday  from  the  week  ? 

Such  confidence,  in  England,  has  there  always  been  in  Shake- 
speare's general  accuracy,  that  this  passage  has  been  quoted, 


"Hamlet? 


417 


both  by  text-writers  and  by  judges  on  the  bench,  as  an  authority 
upon  the  legality  of  the  press-gang,  and  upon  the  debated  ques- 
tion whether  shipwright*,  as  well  as  common  seamen,  are  liable  to 
be  pressed  into  the  service  of  the  royal  navy/' 

Finally,  says  his  lordship, — 

"  Hamlet,  when  mortally  wounded  in  Act  V.  Scene  2,  repre- 
sents that  death  comes  to  him  in  the  shape  of  a  sheriff's  officer, 
as  it  were,  to  take  him  into  custody  under  a  capias  ad  satis- 


Had  I  but  time  (as  this  fell  serjeant,  Death, 

Is  strict  in  his  arrest),  Oh  !  I  could  tell  you,  &c." 

I  cheerfully  leave  this  to  the  reader  without  argument ;  but  I 
regret  that,  in  concluding  my  review  of  the  plays  of  Shake- 
speare, in  this  analysis  of  the  tragedy  of  "  Hamlet/'  I  am 
obliged  to  point  out  what  certainly  looks  like  a  wilful  neglect 
of  duty  on  the  part  of  my  Lord  Chief  Justice  Campbell.  At 
the  request  of  Mr.  J.  Payne  Collier,  a  distinguished  commen- 
tator, his  lordship,  being  esteemed  the  most  fit  man  in  England, 
undertook  the  task  of  investigating  the  text  of  the  Shakespeare 
writings  for  evidences  of  the  legal  acquirements  of  the  author. 
Having  accepted  this  responsibility  and  the  honours  which 
pertained  to  it,  he  was  bound  to  perform  the  task,  not  only 
diligently  and  fully,  but  also  impartially,  to  any  and  every 
interest  which  might  arise  or  be  comprehended  in  the  premises. 
I  concede,  that,  in  the  main,  his  lordship  has  done  so  (though  I 
have  not  been  always  able  to  agree  with  him),  and  I  admit 
moreover,  that  the  observation  of  his  lordship  has  been  so 
vigilant,  and  his  scrutiny  so  minute,  that  he  has  found  proofs  of 
our  poet's  legal  erudition  even  in  his  casual  but  correct  use  of 
such  terms  as  "  purchase/'  "  several/'  "  fee,"  and  "  fee-farm." 
Nay,  he  has  even  gone  to  the  extent,  in  the  play  we  had  last  in 
hand  ("  Lear "),  of  conceding  to  him  a  comprehensive  legal 
insight,  through  the  clown's  declaration,  that  "  the  breath  of  an 
un-feed  lawyer "  was  worth  nothing,  because  it  cost  nothing. 
His  lordship's  estimation  of  the  weight  of  these  legal  expres- 
sions, I  cheerfully  confess  ought  to  be  a  great  deal  better  than 
mine  (though  I  must  assume  my  privilege  of  disagreeing  with 
him),  but  I  think  I  have  a  right  to  complain,  along  with  the 
rest  of  the  world  whom  his  lordship  agreed  to  serve  in  this 


4i 8   Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

matter,  for  his  wilfully  concealing  a  portion  of  the  evidence 
when  he  found  it  rasped  his  own  profession,  or,  I  should  rather 
say,  when  it  touched  the  reputation  of  the  lofty  class  of  legal 
dignitaries,  to  which  his  lordship's  learning  and  ability  had 
justly  raised  him. 

I  observed,  in  my  review  of  "  Lear,"  that,  notwithstanding 
the  great  diligence  which  Lord  Campbell  had  shown  in  analyzing 
the  Shakespearian  text,  he  had,  singularly  enough,  overlooked, 
or,  perhaps,  intentionally  left  unnoticed,  two  of  the  most  striking 
evidences  of  Shakespeare's  knowledge  of  the  administration  of 
the  law,  as  it  then  seemed  to  be  administered  in  Great  Britain. 
Both  of  these  instances  occur  in  the  famous  scene  in  Act  IV. 
Scene  6,  where  the  mad  old  king,  fantastically  dressed  in 
flowers,  holds  a  sort  of  court  upon  the  heath  : — 

LEAR  (to  the  blinded,  G-loster).  Look  with  thine  ears.  See  how  yon' 
justice  rails  upon  yon'  simple  thief.  Hark,  in  thine  ear.  Change  places; 
and,  handy-dandy,  which  is  the  justice,  which  is  the  thief? 

Again,-— 

Through  tatter'd  clothes  small  vices  do  appear ; 

Holes  andfurr'd  gowns  hide  all.     Plate  sin  ivith  gold 

And  the  strong  lance  of  justice  hurtless  breaks  ; 

Arm  it  in  rags,  a  pigmy's  straw  will  pierce  it. 

None  does  offend,  none,  I  say  none  ;  I'll  able  'em.     [Offers  money. 

Take  that  of  me,  my  friend,  who  have  the  power 

To  seal  the  accuser's  lips. 

My  remark  upon  the  above  was,  "  Surely  Lord  Campbell, 
who  accepted  his  first  legal  instance  in  this  play  of  f  Lear ' 
as  to  an  '  un-feed  lawyer/  from  the  mouth  of  a  fool,  might  have 
given  some  attention  to  the  above  powerful  lines,  .though  from 
the  lips  of  a  madman.-"  All  this  was  suppositively  put  against 
Lord  Campbell  as  a  case  of  possible  oversight ;  but  the  following 
evidence  of  his  lordship's  tampering  with  the  testimony,  or 
rather  concealment,,  of  the  facts,  for  the  protection  of  the  repu- 
tation of  the  English  bench,  disposes  of  that  theory.  Like  the 
above  instances  from  "  Lear,"  the  suppressed  extract  affords  one 
of  the  most  conspicuous  evidences  of  Shakespeare's  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  corruption  of  the  English  judiciary  that  could 
possibly  be  presented.  It  occurs  in  the  language  of  the  King, 
in  the  third  scene  of  Act  III.  of  "  Hamlet/'  where,  stung  by 


"Hamlet".  419 

remorse,  his  majesty  is  about  asking  Heaven's  forgiveness  for 
his  crimes.     He  says, — 

In  the  corrupted  currents  of  the  world, 
Offence's  gilded  hand  may  shove  by  justice  ; 
And  oft  'tis  seen,  the  wicked  prize  itself 
Buys  out  the  law  :  But  'tis  not  so  above  : 
There  is  no  shuffling,  there  the  action  lies 
In  his  true  nature ;  and  we  ourselves  compell'd, 
Even  to  the  teeth  and  forehead  of  our  faults, 
To  give  in  evidence. 

This  terrible  accusation  against  the  integrity  of  the  English 
judiciary  Lord  Campbell  would  not  give ;  so,  without  reflecting 
injuriously  upon  his  lordship,  I  am  forced,  by  the  necessities  of 
criticism,  to  repeat  the  remark  I  made  at  the  close  of  my  review 
of  the  tragedy  of  "  Lear ; "  that  "  of  one  thing  we  may  be 
certain,  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  who,  when  Lord  Chancellor,  was 
sent  to  the  Tower  for  selling  his  decisions  for  money  while 
presiding  on  the  bench,  would  never  have  written  these  allusions 
to  judicial  corruption  had  he  been  the  author  of  the  Shake- 
speare plays;  or,  had  he  done  so  in  1605,  when  'Lear'  was 
composed,  he  would  have  expunged  these  condemnations  of  his 
own  crime  when  the  Shakespearian  folio  was  revised  and  pub- 
lished in  1623." 


THE   MUSICAL    OR   EUPHONIC 
TEST. 

SHAKESPEARE  AND  BACON'S  RESPECTIVE  SENSE 
OF  MELODY,  OR  EAR  FOR  MUSIC. 


28 


The  Euphonic  Test.  423 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE   EUPHONIC  TEST. 

HAVING  finished  my  scrutiny  of  the  Shakespearian  dramas,  with 
the  view  of  exhibiting  the  writer's  aristocratic  inclinations,  his 
contempt  for  the  labouring1  classes,  his  religious  predilections, 
and  his  defective  knowledge  of  the  law,  in  order  to  mark  the 
width  of  distance,  in  the  way  of  personality,  between  him  and 
Bacon,  I  come  now  to  the  final  test,  whether  the  essays  of  the 
latter  and  the  plays  of  our  poet  could  have  been  the  productions 
of  one  and  the  same  mind.  This  question  I  take  to  be  susceptible 
of  absolute  demonstration,  according  to  the  laws  of  elocution  and 
of  musical  sound.  A  writer's  musical  sense,  or  ear  for  music, 
governs  the  euphony  and  tread  of  his  expression.  This  ear  for 
sound,  following  the  instincts  of  taste,  and  falling  always  toward 
one  cadence  and  accord,  insensibly  forms  what  writers  call  a  style. 
This  .style,  when  thoroughly  fixed,  enables  us  to  distinguish  the 
productions  of  one  author  from  another,  and  is  usually  more 
reliable  as  a  test  of  authorship  even  than  handwriting,  inasmuch 
as  the  latter  may  be  counterfeited,  while  a  style  of  thought, 
united  with  a  form  of  expression  consonant  to  that  tone  of 
thought  being  a  gift,  cannot  be  imitated  as  handwriting  can. 
A  fixed  style,  like  that  either  of  Bacon  or  of  Shakespeare,  is, 
therefore,  undoubtedly,  susceptible  of  analysis  and  measurement 
by  the  laws  both  of  music  and  of  elocution.  Having  been  satis- 
fied,  from  the  first,  that  this  test  would  prove  decisive,  summon- 
ing, as  it  almost  does,  the  august  shades  of  the  -two  dead  giants 
into  court,  I  reserved  it  for  the  last.  Being  unwilling,  however, 
in  a  matter  of  so  much  importance,  to  depend  solely  upon  myself, 
I  addressed  a  letter  to  Professor  J.  W.  Taverner,  a  very  high 
authority  in  elocution  and  belles  letlres  in  the  United  States,  re- 


424  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

questing  an  analysis  and  comparison  of  the  Plays  and  Essays  from 
his  standpoint  in  art,  and  asking  a  decision,  as  far  as  that  critical 
examination  would  enable  him  to  give  one,  of  the  problem  in- 
volved. The  following  is  the  essay  of  the  Professor  on  the  text 
above  given : — 

The  respective  Styles  of  Shakespeare  and  Bacon,1  judged  by  the 
Laws  of  Elocutionary  Analysis  and  "  Melody  of  Speech  " 

BY    PROFESSOR  J.   W.   TAVERNER. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  will  now  set  forth,  as  plainly  as  I  can,  the  theory 
of  Shakespearian  versification,  to  which  you  refer.  As  for  the 
Baconian  theory  of  the  authorship  of  Shakespeare's  plays,  which 
I  remember  to  have  been  first  started  by  Miss  Bacon,  at  New- 
haven — I  prejudged  it.  It  appeared  to  me,  by  the  force  of  a 
single  reflection,  to  be  as  unworthy  of  examination,  as  to  seri- 
ously consider  if  two  bodies  could  occupy  the  same  place  at  the 
same  time. 

The  reflection  to  which  I  refer  is  this :  That  when  we  regard 
the  works  of  great  men — the  sculpture  and  paintings  of  Michael 
Angelo,  the  architecture  of  Inigo  Jones,  the  dramatic  works  of 
Shakespeare,  and,  I  am  obliged  to  mention  for  my  arguments, 
the  works  of  Lord  Bacon— we  see  the  rounded  thought  of  "  a  life," 
as  it  grew  and  spread — like  one  of  those  giant  trees  of  California, 
with  its  roots  in  the  earth  just  where  it  started.  The  life-work 
of  each  had  its  roots  in  an  idea,  a  soil,  a  genius  (not  an  industry), 
from  which  all  sprang.  Each  such  work  is,  as  I  said,  the  expres- 
sion of  "  a  life,"  and  of  a  life  commenced  and  continued  under 

1  Bacon's  style  was  clear  and  strong,  well-balanced  and  rhythmical,  but  not 
sweet.  Meares  in  the  "Wit's  Treasury,"  published  in  1598,  speaks  of 
Shakespeare  as  the  mellifluous  and  koney-tongued  Shakespeare,  in  whom 
"  the  sweet  and  witty  soul  of  Ovid  lies,"  as  witness  his  Venus  and  Adonis, 
his  Lucrece,  and  his  sugred  sonnets  among  his  private  friends.  Chettle,  in 
1603,  thus  alludes  to  him  while  reproaching  him  for  his  silence  on  the  death 
of  Queen  Elizabeth  :— 

Nor  doth  the  silver-tongued  Melicert 
Drop  from  his  honied  muse  one  sable  tear. 
Ben  Jonson,  in  his  eulogy  on  "  The  memory  of  Shakespeare,"  says,— 

Even  so  the  race 

Of  Shakespeare's  mind  and  manners  brightly  shines 
In  his  well-turn' A  and  truly  filed  lines.  G.  W. 


The  Euphonic  Test.  425 

certain  auspices.  He,  therefore,  that  wrought  the  one,  could 
not  have  performed  the  work  incident  to  the  other,  without 
entirely  new  conditions  from  the  start.  How  much  less  pos- 
sible is  it  that  one  could  have  accomplished  the  joint  works 
of  any  two. 

Not  the  least  among  these,  but,  perhaps,  the  greatest  wonder 
of  them  all  is  Shakespeare.  The  world  has  been  accustomed  to 
regard  the  author  of  these  marvellous  plays,  as  the  wonder  of  the 
world  and  the  king  of  men.  It  is  certain,  whoever  he  was,  that 
from  childhood  he  was  growing  to  the  work,  cultivating  his 
imagination,  accumulating  his  materials,  his  mind  left  to  its  bent, 
but  little  interfered  with  from  without;  even  too  severe  and 
strict  an  education,  would  have  dwarfed  his  imagination,  and 
stopped  this  mighty  mind  in  its  career.  Its  education  must 
greatly  have  been  an  education  of  choice. 

And  now  we  are  asked  to  concede  that  these  plays,  and  all  that 
they  contain,  needed  no  such  one-sided  devotion  and  mental  pro- 
clivity, and  was  not  so  much  of  a  work  after  all,  for  Lord  Bacon, 
whose  chief  and  earnest  devotion  of  his  mind  and  time  was  not 
surrendered  to  this  work,  (but  is  well  understood  and  fully  admitted 
by  his  biography  to  have  been  exerted  in  a  different  direction,) 
yet  supplemented  these  dramatic  works  as  a  mere  pastime,  in 
hours  of  relaxation  from  severe  and  absolute  duties  and  labours. 

It  is  not  so  unreasonable,  I  am  willing  to  admit,  apart  from 
historical  proof  to  the  contrary,  to  dispute  the  authorship  of 
Shakespeare's  plays,  but  utterly  unreasonable  to  think  to  find  the 
author  in  one,  who  was  at  the  same  period  filling  the  world  other- 
wise with  a  light,  an  effulgence  of  brightness  of  only  a  some- 
what lesser  magnitude.  So  Lord  Bacon  is  ruled  out,  by  a  sort  of  an 
intellectual  alibi,  for  he  was  somewhere  else  busily  engrossed  with 
something  else.  To  have  done  the  one  work,  precludes  the  possi- 
bility of  having  done  the  other,  as  it  would  for  both  an  oak  and 
a  pine-tree  to  grow  from  the  same  seed.  Understand  me,  that  if 
they  were  both  works  of  mere  literary  labour,  like  those  of 
Schlegel  (for  so  I  judge  Schlegel),  this  would  not  apply,  but  being 
both  works  of  genius,  and  one  at  least  (the  plays)  of  both  genius 
and  of  art,  this  does  apply. 

As  the  handwriting  of  any  one  man  among  thousands  can  be 
determined  by  experts,  so  no  lengthy  examples  of  the  style — the 
expression  and  language  of  any  two  authors  of  note,  can  fail  to 


426    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

indicate  the  individual  mind  to  which  the  one  or  the  other  belongs. 
The  handwriting  is  so  determinate,  because  dependant  on  such 
an  infinite  combination  of  circumstances — the  whole  conformation 
and  structure  of  the  hand  ;  the  relation  of  the  thumb  and  fingers 
that  hold  the  pen,  the  angle  by  which  they  are  inclined,  the 
length  of  the  lever  from  the  point  where  the  hand  rests ;  but  still 
further  by  those  more  delicate  indications  through  the  action 
of  the  nerves  and  the  characteristics  of  the  mind  of  the  chiro- 
grapher. 

But  how  much  more  extensive  are  the  combinations  that  con- 
stitute the  style,  the  language,  the  adornments,  the  illustrations, 
the  figurative  expression,  the  place  of  the  emphasis,  the  form  of 
the  phrases,  the  source  of  the  metaphors,  the  character  of  the 
similes;  but  our  enumeration  would  become  too  long;  then, 
finally,  that  emanation  of  the  rhythm  of  the  breathing,  and  of  the 
pulse,  and  the  endowments  of  the  ear,  that  marshals  all  those 
forms  and  phrases  in  a  certain  order  with  reference  to  melody  and 
cadence. 

To  make  up  the  characteristics  of  some  of  these,  what  a  com- 
bination of  antecedents !  Every  day  that  the  author  lived,  every 
trouble,  happiness,  and  accident  that  he  experienced,  every  book 
that  he  chanced  to  read,  every  study  that  he  earnestly  prosecuted, 
every  virtue  and  every  vice  that  grew  in  his  character,  every 
trait  and  bias  and  inclination  in  science,  in  theology,  in  philosophy, 
and  music,  contributed  to  produce  and  form  the  united  result. 

We  shall  therefore  proceed  to  judge,  by  these  signs,  whether 
it  is  not  impossible  that  the  works  of  Shakespeare  could  have  been 
written  by  Lord  Bacon,  and  equally  so  that  those  of  Bacon  could 
have  been  written  by  Shakespeare. 

"We  can  readily  detect,  as  a  peculiarity  appertaining  to  different 
writers,  certain  repeated  forms,  showing  that  every  writer  exhibits 
a  fashion,  or  uses  some  geometrical  or  metrical  arrangement  in 
which  the  words  instinctively  place  themselves.  I  presume,  that 
with  some  authors,  and  most  certainly  with  Shakespeare,  it  might 
require  a  tedious  examination  to  find  out  what  prevails,  but,  with 
Bacon,  we  are  so  far  fortunate,  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  read  a 
page  without  detecting  more  than  one  such  prevalent  habit. 

I  shall  present  examples,  sufficient  in  number,  and  those 
taken  solely  from  the  "  Essays,"  and,  when  they  are  brought 
together,  I  think  that  it  will  seem  quite  unnecessary  to  state  that 


The  Euphonic  Test.  427 

the  same  repetitions  (I  mean  in  form  only),  cannot  be  produced 
from  the  pages  of  Shakespeare. 

Upon  examination  of  the  limited  poetry  which  we  have  from 
the  pen  of  Bacon  ["The  translation  of  certain  Psalms  into 
English  verse  "],  I  find  nothing  to  criticize.  Like  unto  Shake- 
speare, he  takes  good  note  of  any  deficiency  of  syllabic  pulsation, 
and  imparts  the  value  but  of  one  syllable  to  the  dissyllables 
"  heaven/'  "  wearest,"  "  many,"  "  even/'  "  goeth ;  " — and  to 
"  glittering/'  and  "  chariot,"  but  the  value  of  two,  precisely  as 
Shakespeare  would.  But  we  have  no  means  of  ascertaining  if 
he  would  have  pronounced  "  ambitious "  as  four  syllables,  as 
Shakespeare  invariably  does,  and  as  the  reader  may  find  if  he 
will  consult  Mark  Antony's  oration. 

On  the  one  side  of  this  investigation,  therefore,  we  are  confined 
to  what  may  be  revealed  in  prose  composition. 

The  outcome  of  the  life-long  process  to  which  we  have  referred, 
by  which  the  style  of  a  writer  is  formed — that  feature  of  it  to 
which  our  treatment  of  this  subject,  for  the  present,  relates — is 
the  most  subtle ;  for  we  have  to  investigate  that  of  which  the 
writer  himself  was,  possibly,  the  most  unconscious — that  which, 
like  his  gait  or  some  other  habit,  has  perhaps  received  no  positive 
attention  whatever.  Yet,  it  may  be  held  that  nothing  becomes 
more  rigid  and  fixed  than  the  mould  and  matrix  in  which  his 
thoughts  are  ultimately  fashioned  and  expressed.  The  modes  of 
thinking  would,  in  some  instances,  have  to  be  identical,  to  pro- 
duce identical  melodies  of  speech. 

In  Shakespeare's  prose  we  shall  find  that  all  this  is  mar- 
vellously free  and  varied,  and  that  his  blank  verse  conforms 
strictly  to  a  certain  set  of  chimes.  In  Bacon,  besides  Latin 
forms  we  shall  not  lack  examples  of  a  certain  sort  of  duplicates 
and  triplicates,  antithetic  parallelisms,  and  harmonic  or  alternate 
phrases  (and,  to  use  a  strong  Baconianism),  and  the  like. 

A  distinguished  reviewer  says  that  "  Bacon,  like  Sydney,  was 
the  warbler  of  poetic  prose."  And  this  is  true,  not  solely  in  the 
sense  of  using  poetic  illustration,  an  illustration  identified  with 
the  development  of  thought,  the  close  combination  of  the  in- 
tellectual and  the  imaginative,  but  in  his  adherence  to  a  frequent 
repetition  of  prose  melodies.  But  they  have  not  the  rhythm  of 
the  beat  of  the  ocean  on  the  sea-shore  like  those  of  Shakespeare. 
They  resemble  rather,  in  some  instances,  the  formula  of  the  Rule 


428  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

of  Three ;  and  others,  showing  the  mathematical  mind  of  the 
author,  are  constructed  precisely  in  form,  as  that,  1  a  equals 
2  b ;  2  a  equals  4  I.  And  others  are  like  three  times  three  are 
nine,  three  times  four  are  twelve,  and  three  times  five  are  fifteen. 

Let  us  give  some  illustrations  of  these  : — 

"  A  man  cannot  speak  to  his  son  but  as  a  father,  to  his  wife 
but  as  a  husband,  to  his  enemy  but  upon  terms." 

"  Crafty  men  contemn  studies,  simple  men  admire  them,  and 
wise  men  use  them/' 

"  Where  some  ants  carry  corn,  and  some  their  young,  and  some 
go  empty ."  "  Studies  serve  for  delight,  for  ornament,  and  for 
ability."  "  The  chief  use  for  delight  is  in,  etc.,  for  ornament  is, 
etc.,  and  for  ability  in,  etc."  "  Reading  maketh  a  full  man,  con- 
ference a  ready  man,  and  writing  an  exact  man."  "  For  they 
cloud  the  mind,  they  lose  friends,  they  check  with  business." 
"They  dispose  kings  to  tyranny, husbands  to  jealousy,  wise  men 
to  irresolution." 

But  in  all  this  there  is  an  obvious  rhythm,  every  member  is 
equally  balanced.  For  compare  the  above  with  the  following, 
where  each  member  is  drawn  out  longer : — 

"  The  advantage  ground  to  do  good,  the  approach  to  kings 
and  principal  persons,  and  the  raising  of  a  man's  own  fortunes." 

There  is  no  end  to  Bacon's  repetition  of  these  triple  clauses 
always  equally  balanced  : — 

"  Some  of  prey,  some  of  game,  some  of  quarrel."  "  Desires  of 
profit,  of  lust,  of  revenge."  ' ( Give  ear  to  precept,  to  laws,  to 
religion,"  "  of  books,  of  sermons,  of  harangues."  "  He  tosseth 
his  thoughts  more  easily,  he  marshaleth  them  more  orderly,  he 
seeth  how  they  look  when  they  are  turned  into  words." 

For  the  abundance  of  forms  such  as  these  has  it  been  said, 
that  no  author  was  ever  so  concise  as  Bacon.  Yet  the  question 
may  be  asked,  if  Shakespeare  had  to  put  the  same  thoughts  as 
the  following,  would  he  express  them  in  the  same  way  ?  "  Some 
books  are  to  be  tasted,  others  to  be  swallowed,  and  some  few  to 
be  chewed  and  digested." 

Distinguished  Shakespearian  commentators,  who  will  reject, 
as  being  unsafe  to  adopt,  many  critical  arguments  founded  upon 
the  merit  or  demerit  of  certain  passages,  or  even  of  an  entire 
play,  will  attach  the  greatest  importance  to  any  similarity  or 
dissimilarity  in  the  versification.  Nothing  is  regarded  as  a 


The  Euphonic  Test.  429 

surer  indication  of  authenticity  than  such  external  signs. 
Bacon,  himself,  gives  testimony  to  the  weight  and  value  of  such 
evidence,  for  he  himself  relates  that  Queen  Elizabeth,  being 
incensed  with  a  certain  book  dedicated  to  my  Lord  of  Essex, 
expressed  an  opinion  that  there  was  treason  in  it,  and  would  not 
be  persuaded  that  it  was  his  writing  whose  name  was  to  it ;  but 
that  it  had  some  more  mischievous  author,  and  said,  with  great 
indignation,  that  she  would  have  him  racked,  to  produce  his 
author.  "I  replied/'  says  Bacon,  "Nay,  Madam,  he  is  a 
doctor ;  never  rack  his  person,  but  rack  his  style  ;  let  him  have 
pen,  ink,  and  paper,  and  help  of  books,  and  be  enjoined  to 
continue  the  story  where  it  breaketh  off,  and  I  will  undertake, 
by  collating  the  styles,  to  judge  whether  he  were  the  author 
or  no." 

Of  this  part  of  the  style,  which  is  simply  addressed  to  the  ear, 
and  not  unto  the  mind,  or  limited  to  some  faculty  of  it  that 
might  be  regarded  as  the  counterpart  of  the  eye,  has  possessed 
such  an  attraction  for  some  persons  that  they  have  become 
thereby  attached  to  certain  authors,  and  have  made  them  their 
constant  companions,  chiefly  for  this  sesthetic  kind  of  grati- 
fication. 

It  is  said  that  Lord  Byron  made  Disraeli's  "  Literary  Charac- 
ters "  his  inseparable  companion,  though  I  may  infer  it  was  for 
the  sake  of  the  endless  variety  of  intellectual  experiences,  with 
which  Byron  would  doubtless  have  felt  so  much  active  sympathy. 

What  but  this  music  of  language  produced  the  great  fasci- 
nation of  Ossian's  poems  ?  I  doubt  if  it  were  not  this  which 
constituted  the  chief  effect  of  Sterne,  and  made  him  for  a  time 
a  household  work. 

It  is  certainly  the  great  and  unique  charm  of  Edgar  Allan 
Poe. 

It  has  a  marvellous  attraction  for  the  young,  upon  whom  will 
be  often  produced  an  indelible  impression,  thus  derived  through 
example  and  admiration.  So,  from  a  life  association,  springs  up 
the  various  habitual  intonations  of  the  Scotch,  the  Irish,  the 
English,  and  the  American,  that  you  may  know  them,  meet 
them  in  whatever  part  of  the  world  you  may. 

No  writer,  however  intellectually  great  or  independent  he  may 
afterwards  become,  but  in  his  day  had  his  bias,  and  has  been 
influenced  by  the  fascination  of  another.  And  two  men,  who 


430    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

are  contemporaries,  though  they  may  be  attracted  alike  and 
come  under  the  same  influence,,  yet  in  its  blending  with  their 
individual  natures,  and  modified  more  or  less  by  that  receptivity 
derived  from  previous  preparation  to  submit  them  to  the  im- 
pression ;  and,  as  the  nature  of  the  one  would  be  to  absorb  less 
or  to  reflect  more,  the  result  would  be  invariably  different. 

There  is  nothing  so  characteristic  as  the  acquired  and  natural 
endowments  of  the  mind  of  an  author,  that  shows  the  true  metal 
of  the  mine  from  which  they  are  taken,  as  the  similes  which  he 
employs.  All  such  anologies  are  just  such  as  most  readily  occur 
to  the  mind  of  the  writer.  How  different  will  they  be  with 
different  men.  In  Shakespeare,  those  of  his  that  are  sui  generis 
are  drawn  from  the  forces  of  nature ;  he  goes  at  once  to  the 
fountain  head — he  does  not  borrow  them  at  second  hand,  nor 
look  into  the  accidents  of  life  for  an  illustration.  Those  of 
Bacon,  on  the  other  hand,  are  such  as  are  suggested  by  the 
habit  of  a  close  observation  of  life  and  manners,  of  the  obser- 
vances of  the  court,  of  the  dictates  of  prudence,  of  the  experience 
and  moral  allowance  of  the  lawyer — they  may  be  drawn  from 
nature,  but  it  is  nature  as  exhibited  in  the  life  of  the  animal,  its 
sagacity  and  cunning,  and  qualities  that  help  to  self-preserva- 
tion :  as  in  that  one  of  his  wherein  he  says,  "  As  among  beasts, 
those  which  are  weakest  in  the  course,  are  yet  nimblest  in  the 
turn,  as  it  is  betwixt  the  greyhound  and  the  hare."  Very 
shrewd  indeed,  but  therein  it  has  the  mental  stamp  of  Lord 
Bacon.  He  has  put  his  mark  upon  it :  shrewdness,  the  quickest 
and  most  responsive  faculty  of  the  individual  character. 

The  simile  is  as  a  spark  that  is  to  be  elicited  from  an 
electrically-charged  substance;  the  moment  for  the  spark  has 
come,  it  can't  deliberate  how  it  shall  deport  itself,  there  is  so 
much  of  it,  or  so  little,  according  to  circumstances.  Thus 
nothing  is  so  sure  an  indication  of  the  man.  When  he  projects 
the  simile,  he  looks  in  upon  himself.  He  is  confined  to  nothing. 
There  is  the  storehouse — a  glance  only,  and  he  picks  up  the 
brightest  gem  that  suits  his  purpose.  Be  he  rich  or  poor, 
parsimonious  or  prodigal,  he  must  wear  the  robes  suited  to  his 
state  and  station. 

Similes  as  mental  products,  are  very  distinct  from  all  other 
forms  of  figurative  language.  A  simile  is  unique.  Metaphor 
and  such  like  may  belong  to  only  a  part  of  a  phrase,  there  may 


The  Euphonic  Test.  431 

be  but  a  few  words  with  a  figurative  meaning  introduced  within 
a  sentence ;  but  a  simile  is  complete.  It  has  its  own  beginning 
and  ending.  Bacon  has  to  accompany  some  of  his  with  an 
explanation.  Here  is  one  with  a  double  explanation  : — 

"  Like  eholer,  which  is  the  humour  that  maketh  men  active, 
earnest,  and  full  of  alacrity,  and  stirring  if  it  be  not  stopped ; 
but  if  it  be  stopped,  and  cannot  have  its  way,  it  becometh  as 
dark,  and  thereby  malign  and  venomous;  so,  &c." 

Where  could  you  find  in  Shakespeare  a  simile  constructed  like 
this? 

To  determine  more  positively  the  impress  of  individuality. 
which  this  form,  above  all  others,  supplies,  I  shall  place  alongside 
of  Shakespeare  and  Bacon,  those  also  of  Shelley  and  of  the  Bible. 

The  unification  of  the  simile,  both  in  structure  and  execution, 
is  a  peculiarity  attaching  generally  to  all  those  of  the  Bible,  of 
Shakespeare,  and  of  Shelley,  and  is  so  essential  an  attribute  for 
the  consideration  of  the  elocutionist,  because,  through  the  least 
failure,  either  in  conception  or  execution,  in  this  regard,  vague, 
false,  or  ridiculous  meanings  have  sometimes  been  conveyed,  both 
on  the  stage  and  in  the  sacred  desk.  This  necessary  compliance 
in  elocution  is  but  the  conforming  of  the  delivery  to  the 
psychological  conditions  under  which  the  simile  had  its  partu- 
rition in  the  mind  of  the  author.  To  take  example  from  stage 
utterances  : — 

And  Pity,  like  a  naked,  new-lorn  bale, 
Striding  the  blast, 

has  been  so  pronounced  as  if  ( f  the  naked  new-born  babe "  was 
striding  the  blast, 

Or  heaven's  cJierubim,  horsed 
Upon  the  sightless  coursers  of  the  air  ; 

as  if  "  the  cherubim  "  was  intended  as  horsed  upon  the  sightless 
coursers  of  the  air. 

It  is  Pity,  the  bold  figure  and  personification  which  Macbeth 
has  suddenly  introduced,  which  thus  conveys  its  pitiful  tale  of 
assassination  and  murder,  and  starts  the  tears  in  every  eye. 

Then,  again,  in  the  first  part  of  the  same  speech  : — 

Besides,  this  Duncan 

Hath  borne  his  faculties  so  meek,  hath  been 
So  clear  in  his  great  office,  that  his  virtues 


432    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Will  plead  like  angels  trumpet  tongued,  against 
The  deep  damnation  of  his  talcing  off. 

I  am  almost  afraid  to  say  what  distinguished  elocutionists — if 
tragedians,  whose  elocution  has  invariably  been  mere  blind 
experiment,  may  be  called  such — have  spoken  these  lines,  as  if 
the  thought  were  "angels  trumpet-tongued,"  instead  of  its 
appearing  that  Duncan's  virtues  would  plead  trumpet-tongued. 
The  punctuation  which  should  not  be  suffered  to  mislead,  is  the 
cause  of  some  of  these  errors. 

This  essential  attribute  of  the  simile  I  shall  show  hereafter  as 
peculiarly  attaching  to  those  of  Shelley,  and,  however  lengthy 
any  simile  might  be,  that  his  mind  embraced  it  like  a  single  ray 
of  light  emanating  therefrom. 

In  the  following  example  from  the  Bible  either  the  presence  of 
the  commas,  or  ignorance  of  that  elocutionary  feature  in  the  simile, 
which  is  to  render  it  in  its  entirety,  has  led  to  similar  faults 
(Psalm  i.  3)  :— • 

And  lie  shall  be  like  a  tree,  planted  by  the  rivers  of  ivater,  which 
bringeth  forth  his  fruit  in  his  season. 

This,  when  rendered  disjunctively,  ' '  and  he  shall  be  like  a  tree" 
we  cannot  see  wherein  he  is  like  a  tree.  Nor  can  we  perceive 
how  he  can  be  "  like  a  tree  planted  by  the  rivers  of  water  -,"  for 
that  is  to  be  carried  away  by  the  flood :  "  that  Iringeth  forth  his 
fruit "  is  now  too  late.  The  light  is  thus  broken  and  scattered. 
But  presented  as  a  unit,  having  one  continuous  flow  of  the  voice, 
the  sense  is  plain. 

Again,  in  Psalm  xix.  6,  with  the  reading  of  which  every- 
body is  so  'familiar,  and  which  has  been  heard  so  often,  thus : — 

*  Which  is  as  a  bridegroom  ....  coming  out  of  his  chamber, 
And  rejoiceth  as  a  strong  man  .  ...  to  run  a  race. 

Now,  by  this  disjunctive  reading,  we  would  not  know  whether 
"  coming  out  of  his  chamber "  was  predicated  of  the  sun,  or  of 
the  bridegroom,  nor  whether  "  to  run  a  race  "  referred  to  the 
bridegroom,  the  sun,  or  the  strong  man.  But  the  simile,  pre- 
served in  its  entirety,  and  given  to  the  ear  in  a  compact  form, 
is  full  of  energy  and  meaning  : — 

Which  is  .  .  .  .  "  as  a  bridegroom  coming  out  of  his  chamber" 
And  rejoiceth  .  ..."  as  a  strong  man  to  run  a  race." 


The  E^tphon^c  Test.  433 

How  little  of  this  character  can  be  imparted  to  any  simile,  so 
conceived  as  to  carry  an  explanation  afterwards  like  this  one  from 
Bacon: — 

Like  bats  amongst  birds,  tliey  fly  by  twilight. 

I  introduce  this,  at  this  point,  to  show  that  there  may  be  a 
radical  difference  in  the  manner  a  simile  may  spring  up  in  the 
mind.  This  latter  form  is  indicative  of  a  mental  habit  entirely 
distinct  from  the  above  examples,  and  if  we  shall  find  hereafter 
that  no  such  mental  habit  attaches  to  the  author  of  Shakespeare's 
plays,  and  yet  is  almost  the  invariable  method  with  Bacon,  it 
will  be  all-sufficient  of  itself,  without  the  argument  of  the 
enormous  difference  in  the  similes  themselves,  and  the  sources 
from  which  they  are  derived. 

Shelley  abounds  in  similes,  more  so  than  any  other  poet.  In 
the  "  Skylark "  we  have  a  string  of  them,  if  I  may  use  the 
phrase,  each  simile  being  as  a  bead,  distinct  in  character  and 
colour,  that  is  to  be  separately  threaded.  The  elocution  demands 
that  the  mind  shall  not  be  taken  up  with  the  parts,  but  embrace 
the  whole :  it  must  not  be  allowed  to  rest  on  "  the  glow-worm/' 
but  on  all  that  is  said  about  it : — 

Like  a  poet  hidden 
In  the  light  of  thought 
Singing  hymns  unbidden 
Till  the  world  is  wrought 
To  sympathy,  with  hopes,  and  fears  it  heeded  not. 

Like  a  high-born  maiden 
In  a  palace  tower, 
Soothing  her  love-laden 
Soul  in  secret  hour 
With  music  sweet  as  love  that  overflows  her  bower. 

Like  a  glow-worm  golden 
In  a  dell  of  dew 
Scattering  unbeholden 
Its  aeriel  hue 
Amidst  the  flowers,  and  grass  that  screen  it  from  the  view. 

Like  a  rose  embower'd 
In  its  own  green  leaves 
By  warm  winds  deflower'd 


434    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Poini  of  View. 

Till  the  scent  it  gives 

Makes  faint  with  too  much  sweet, 

These  heavy-winged  thieves. 

Sound  of  vernal  showers 
On  the  twinkling  grass. 
Eain-awaken'd  flowers, 
All  that  ever  was 
Joyous  and  clear  and  fresh  thy  music  doth  surpass. 

Further  examples :  "  Like  a  wolf,  that  had  smelt  a  dead  child 
out,"  [the  Spring]  "  Like  the  spirit  of  love  felt  everywhere/' 
[panted]  "  Like  a  doe  in  the  noon-tide." 

.  No  one  can  mistake  in  perceiving  the  individual  character  of 
the  mind,  if  not  its  peculiarity,  that  produced  the  whole  of  these. 
They  are  very  beautiful ;  but  there  is  a  peculiar  sentiment  about 
all  of  them  that  they  would  be  at  once  pronounced  as  Shelley's, 
and  not  one  of  them  could  possibly  be  assigned  to  Shakespeare. 

SIMILES   FEOM   SHAKESPEABE. 

From  Othello. 

Like  to  the  Pontic  Sea 
Whose  icy  current  and  compulsive  course 
Ne'er  knows  retiring  ehb  ;  but  keeps  due  on, 
To  the  Propontic  and  the  Hellespont. 

From  Henry  V. 

Let  it  pry  [the  eye]  through  "  the  portage  of  the  head 
Like  the  brass  cannon." 

Let  the  brow  o'erwhelm  it, 
As  fearfully  "  as  doth  a  galled  rock 
O'erhang  and  jutty  his  confounded  base, 
Swill'd  with  the  wild  and  wasteful  ocean." 

I  see  you  stand  "  like  greyhounds  in  the  slips 
Straining  upon  the  start." 

From  Macbeth. 

And  "  overcome  us  like  a  summer's  cloud  " 
Without  our  special  wonder. 

i.e.,  No  more  than  as  a  summer's  cloud. 

No  one  can  fail  to  recognize  the  mental  stamp  of  Shelley  in 


The  Euphonic  Test.  435 

the  similes  quoted  from  him  ;  and  as  manifestly  is  there  present 
the  individual  impress,  the  boldness  and  daring  of  the  one  and 
the  same  hand  in  those  taken  from  Shakespeare. 

What  a  corruscation  of  poetic  force  and  beauty  appertains  to 
each  !  I  speak  of  those  of  Shakespeare  and  of  Shelley,  and  yet 
the  peculiar  brilliance  of  each  is  so  distinct,  that,  like  two  gems 
of  fabulous  value  in  the  hands  of  a  judge,  the  one  could  not  be 
mistaken  for  the  other.  But  it  is  not  needful  to  judge  these  two 
minds  one  with  the  other,  but  in  the  light  of  them,  to  view  the 
handiwork  of  Lord  Bacon,  in  the  same  direction,  to  examine  his 
similes;  and  not  with  the  intention  to  discover  a  dull  stone 
against  a  brilliant,  but  to  prove  it,  however  solid,  and  true,  and 
genuine,  certainly  not  one  of  the  same  class. 

"  Glorious  gifts  and  foundations,  are  '  like  sacrifices  without 
salt/" 

"  Like  the  market,  where  many  times  if  you  can  stay  a  little, 
the  price  will  fall." 

"  Like  common  distilled  waters,  flashy  things." 

"  Like  precious  odours,  most  fragrant  when  they  are  incensed 
or  crushed." 

"  Like  an  ill  mower,  that  mows  on  still,  but  never  whets  his 
scythe." 

"  Virtue  is  like  a  rich  stone,  best  plain  set." 

These  are  good  for  every-day  wear.  Not  one  of  them  has,  or 
admits  of  that  characteristic  which  makes  the  simile  so  attractive 
to  an  accomplished  elocutionist.  But  they  all  have  the  feature 
which  I  before  mentioned,  of  an  explanatory  appendage.  How 
practical  the  character  of  the  invention  that  calls  them  forth ! 
and  how  completely  stamped,  like  the  others,  with  the  indivi- 
duality of  the  author,  and  indicative  of  a  handiwork  utterly 
incapable  of  claiming  the  signet  furnished  by  the  examples 
above. 

It  would  be  as  easy  to  suppose  by  these  evidences,  Bacon  and 
Shelley  to  have  been  one  and  the  same  author,  as  that  these 
several  specimens  of  Shakespeare  and  of  Bacon  could  proceed 
from  one  and  the  same  mind. 

But  so  unlike  is  Bacon  psychologically  in  his  avowed  works  to 
Shakespeare,  that  he  affords  almost  no  opportunity  to  institute 
comparisons.  Where  we  would  advance  the  characteristic  em- 
bodiments of  human  passion  and  emotion  emanating  from  Shake- 


436    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

speare,  we  turn  to  Bacon  to  find  nothing  but  a  negative.  No 
examples  whatever  with  which  to  compare  those  individual 
flashes  of  fire  and  soul,  by  which  Shakespeare  appears  as  the 
master  of  the  human  heart.  To  speak  in  elocutionary  terms, 
where  can  we  find  in  Bacon  passages  admitting  of  guttural  vibra- 
tion embodying  the  sentiments  of  scorn,  pride,  spleen,  and  aver- 
sion, such  as  may  be  found  in  "  Coriolanus,"  and  in  "  Timon  of 
Athens  "  ?  Where  any  such  opportunities  of  abrupt  utterance 
bearing  like  lightning  flashes  the  vocal  symbol  of  anger  such  as 
Shakespeare  presents  frequently  enough,  but  more  particularly 
in  "  Richard  II.,"  in  the  character  of  Margaret  of  Anjou,  in 
"  Richard  III."  and  in  "  King  Lear"?  Where  the  possibilities 
of  the  aspirate,  in  its  several  features  of  heartfelt  earnestness 
growing  out  of  a  variety  of  emotions  ?  Where  the  expression  of 
sarcasm  and  irony,  as  it  attaches  to  Constance,  in  the  midst  of  her 
maternal  grief?  To  Faulconbridge  with  his  humorous  sallies? 
To  Margaret  of  Anjou  in  her  panther-like  rage?  We  might  as 
reasonably  demand  the  same  throughout  nearly  the  whole  scale 
of  the  passions.  Indeed,  within  the  whole  of  this  range  of  mental 
forces  we  can  turn  all  the  angles  of  reflection  to  view,  and  ex- 
hibit the  many  colours  of  this  psychological  polygon,  as  of  Shake- 
spearean identity ;  but  against  all  these  in  Bacon  we  find  nothing 
but  a  plain  surface.  And  (supposing  him  capable  of  the  Shake- 
spearean dramas)  the  evidence  that  when  Bacon  wrote  as  Bacon, 
he  was  certainly  able  to  send  all  these  mighty  energies  to  sleep, 
and  to  float  somewhat  as  a  flat-bottomed  boat  over  a  smooth 
lake ;  although  according  to  the  upholders  of  the  theory  which  we 
are  called  upon  to  refute,  when  he  undertook  to  write  the  tasks 
of  Shakespeare  he  became  a  new  man,  all  his  scholarly  decorum 
he  dashed  aside,  his  usual  mathematical  sentences  (1  a  and  2  b,  2  a 
and  4  b)  were  never  allowed  to  occur.  No  longer  spake  he  as  if 
he  said,  "  I  am  Sir  Oracle."  And  getting  completely  out  of  his 
flat  boat,  his  rugged  way  is  now  on  the  highest  crests,  and  in  the 
deepest  valleys  of  the  angry  ocean. 


The  Euphonic  Test*  437 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

THE   EUPHONIC   TEST    (CONTINUED). 

IN  this  chapter  will  be  found  the  conclusion  of  the  analysis  by 
Pi'ofessor  Taverner,  accompanied  by  the  opinions  to  which  the 
examination  brings  him.  His  views  are  of  great  force,  and  there 
is  one  point  in  particular,  in  which  the  Professor  is  exceedingly 
strong,  and  which  it  will  be  perceived  also  is  entirely  new.  He 
calls  attention  to  the  fact  that,  while  the  text  of  Shakespeare  is 
so  full  of  trite  legal  expressions,  as  to  induce  even  an  English 
Lord  Chief  Justice  to  make  an  argument  that  he  had  been  bred  a 
lawyer,  or  was,  at  least,  an  articled  attorney's  clerk,  Lord  Bacon, 
who,  it  is  known,  was  thoroughly  a  lawyer,  very  rarely  allows 
himself  to  be  betrayed  into  a  legal  phrase.  The  only  one  in- 
stance of  any  importance  (says  the  Professor)  which  appears  in 
Bacon's  voluminous  text,  in  his  use  of  the  word  caveat — a  word 
which  does  not  appear  in  Shakespeare  at  all.  And  this  omission 
the  Professor  infers,  will  be  all  the  more  surprising  if  the  author 
of  the  writings  of  Bacon  and  Shakespeare  were  one  and  the  same 
man,  since  the  word  caveat,  meaning  simply  a  warning,  would 
have  come  naturally  to  the  writer's  mind  in  many  of  the 
exigencies  of  his  dramatic  scenes.  I  will  add  also  that  the  word 
caveat  is  so  full  of  musical  balance  and  tone,  that  Shakespeare 
would  have  been  likely  to  have  used  it  often,  had  he  been  as 
legally  familiar  with  it  as  was  Bacon.  But  I  think  that 
Professor  Taverner,  though  quite  correct  in  saying  Shakespeare 
never  used  the  word  caveat  in  any  of  his  recognized  produc- 
tions, has  overlooked  the  fact  that  our  poet  has  presented  it,  in 
the  slightly-altered  form  of  caveto,  in  the  mouth  of  ancient  Pistol. 
In  Henry  V.,  Act  II.  Scene  3,  when  that  worthy  person  is 
about  going  off  with  Nym  and  Bardolph  to  the  wars  in  France, 
he  conjures  Dame  Quickly,  whom  he  has  made  his  wife  to 
29 


438  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

leware  how  she  allows  irresponsible  persons  to  run  up  tavern 
scores : — 

PISTOL.  My  love,  give  me  thy  lips. 

Look  to  my  chattels  and  my  moveables  ; 
Let  senses  rule  :  the  word  is  "  Pitch  and  Pay,  Trust  none ;  " 
For  oaths  are  straws,  men's  faiths  are  wafer  cakes, 
And  hold-fast  is  the  only  dog,  my  duck  ; 
Therefore  caveto  be  thy  counsellor. 

There  can  hardly  be  a  doubt  that  this  term  caveto  is  Pistol's 
bombastic  version  of  the  plain  word  caveat,  or  caution. 

That  portion  of  the  Professor's  treatise  which  is  surmounted 
with  the  inter-heading  of  "  Mental  Differences  of  the  Two  Men 
mathematically  demonstrated/'  is  also  specially  worthy  of  con- 
sideration. The  parallelisms  between  Shakespeare  and  Lyly,  in 
this  connexion,  are  likewise  very  curious.  The  Professor 
resumes  his  task  as  follows  : — 

RETRO  GEESSION. 

Much  that  is  submitted  in  this  chapter  it  was  intended 
should  have  appeared  in  the  earlier  part  of  my  last  communication ; 
it  follows  that  some  portion  of  that  also  was  intended  as  a 
sequence  to  this.  Under  these  circumstances,  the  reader  may 
chance  discover  some  appearance  of  repetition,  as  well  as  the  un- 
avoidable retrogression  in  the  argument.  This,  it  is  hoped  will 
be  overlooked.  I  was  certainly  compelled  to  wait  until  the 
passages  which  I  had  selected  from  Bacon  for  special  interroga- 
tion were  kind  enough  to  reveal  to  me  something  of  their 
idiosyncrasies,  and  the  time  that  has  been  afforded  me  for 
further  scrutiny  has  elicited  some  features  of  importance,  which 
I  was  unable  to  perceive  before 

THE    LAW    OF   RHYTHM. 

This  investigation  has  been  fraught  with  difficulty,  in  conse- 
quence of  its  being  necessary  to  seek  for  manifestation  of  laws  of 
rhythm  in  prose  composition,  where  it  has  been  very  truly  said 
that  "  its  range  is  so  wide  that  we  can  never  anticipate  its  flow." 
For  what  is  rhythm  ?  It  is  but  that  law  of  succession  which  is 
the  regulating  principle  of  every  whole,  that  is  made  up  of  pro- 
portional parts ;  it  is  present  in  the  dance,  when  we  consider  it 


The  Euphonic  Test.  439 

as  applied  to  things  of  motion  ;  its  intervals  are  to  be  detected  in 
sculpture  and  architecture,  in  our  furniture  and  ornaments,  where 
we  see  it  extended  to  things  of  matter ;  but,  when  we  consider  it 
in  its  relation  to  sound,  it  is  potent  in  the  highest  degree  in 
music  and  in  poetry,  and  the  manipulation  of  it  by  Shakespeare 
in  his  blank  verse  is  definite  in  the  extreme,  and  the  laws  of 
rhythm  there  maintained  are  so  perfect  and  reliable  as  to  become 
from  time  to  time  an  index  to  his  meaning  where  our  keenest 
discriminations  are  liable  to  be  misled,  and  would  otherwise  fail. 
For  all  verse  may  be  defined  as  a  succession  of  articulate  sounds, 
"  regulated  by  a  rhythm  so  definite,  that  we  can  readily  foresee 
the  results  which  follow."  That  is,  that  the  recurrence  of  the 
accents  at  such  points  have  that  degree  of  regularity,  that  we 
anticipate  the  return  of  the  accent,  but  in  prose  we  are  not  able  so  to 
anticipate  its  recurrence,  while  the  pleasure  we  derive  from  verse 
is  founded  on  this  very  anticipation.  It  may  be  seen,  then,  the 
difficulty  that  has  been  here  encountered,  and  what  immense 
difference  and  advantage  it  would  have  been,  had  we  had  instead, 
to  judge  of  blank  verse  on  both  sides. 

DIVERSE  MUSICAL   EAR   OF   SHAKESPEARE   AND   BACON. 

Shakespeare  and  Bacon  looked  upon  the  same  events,  read 
the  same  authors,  their  minds  were  brought  very  much  under 
the  same  popular  influence,  yet  their  writings  do  not  indicate  any 
such  resemblance  as  even  these  considerations  would  justify, 
much  less  any  approach  to  that  identity  in  thought,  word, 
phrase,  melody,  and  psychological  bias  which  would  be  more  than 
possible,  if  the  Baconian  theory  were  true.  But  on  the  contrary, 
as  we  shall  see,  these  writings  contain  most  unquestionable  marks 
of  being  derived  from  natures  totally  diverse,  dictated  by  a  very 
opposite  life  purpose,  and  moulded  and  expressed  by  a  distinct 
musical  sense  or  ear.  Moreover,  it  could  be  shown,  if  so  exten- 
sive and  nice  an  investigation  were  desirable,  and  I  were  not 
restricted  in  the  direction  of  my  thoughts,  that  among  the  words 
employed  by  Bacon,  not  merely  technical,  but  literary  words,  are 
many  that  do  not  appear  in  Shakespeare,  and  that  innumerable 
Shakespearian  words  Bacon  fails  to  use.  A  single  yet  note- 
worthy instance  occurs  on  the  first  page  of  Bacon's  Works. 
Among  the  arguments  used  on  the  side  of  the  Bacon  theory, 
that  Shakespeare  had  legal  training  and  culture,  one  is  that  he  so 


440  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

often  illustrates  a  thought  by  an  appropriate  legal  term.  How 
is  it  then  that  Bacon,  being  a  lawyer,,  so  very  seldom  himself 
uses  a  legal  phrase  by  way  of  illustration  ? 

A   PECULIAR   PROOF    OF    LEGAL   DIFFERENCE. 

And  in  this  one  rare  instance  that  I  remember,  which  occurs 
on  his  first  page,  he  uses  the  term  a  "  caveat"  and  it  is  some- 
what to  the  point  to  say  that  that  term,  so  ready  to  spring  from 
the  mind  of  Bacon,  is  not  found  in  Shakespeare.  And,  more- 
over, what  is  its  definition  ?  a  caution,  a  warning — pretty  wide 
scope  for  its  use.  How  many  hundreds  of  times  in  all  the  cross 
purposes  of  the  drama  would  opportunity  and  need  for  this 
expression  arise,  but  never  by  any  chance  is  it  mentioned  by 
Shakespeare  as  a  "  caveat"  Surely,  to  judge  Shakespeare  as 
learned  in  the  law,  because  of  his  use  of  ordinary  legal  phrases, 
might  have  the  shadow  of  a  reason  if  the  doctor  and  the  lawyer 
had  not,  in  all  times,  furnished  society  with  an  apt  quotation  to 
be  employed  with  zest  by  everybody  except  themselves.  Let 
me  repeat,  then,  that  as  far  as  this  article  is  concerned,  it  is  in- 
tended chiefly  to  prove  that  the  Shakespeare  dramas  cannot  be 
said  to  exhibit  any  of  the  peculiar  analogies,  the  phrase  construc- 
tions, the  prose  melodies,  and  other  external  features,  which 
remain  to  be  set  forth  as  Baconianisms ;  nor,  on  the  other  hand 
can  Bacon's  works  show  any  reproduction  of  the  style  and  form 
of  metaphor  and  simile  common  to  Shakespeare,  nor  any  repeti- 
tion of  those  more  subtle  forms  of  melody  and  cadence,  which 
proceed  from  the  dictates  of  the  musical  sense,  and  are  cha- 
racteristic of  the  prose  passages  of  the  plays. 

MENTAL   DIFFERENCE    MATHEMATICALLY    DEMONSTRATED. 

Besides  thus  comparing  these  authors  with  themselves,  it  will 
be  somewhat  parallel,  and  a  step  further  in  confirmation  of  their 
non-identity  to  compare  each  of  them  with  another,  where  one 
is  found  to  agree  and  the  other  to  disagree.  This  is  to  follow  a 
good  axiom  in  mathematics,  that  where  one  is  like,  and  the  other 
unlike  to  a  third,  they  must  be  unlike  to  each  other.  I  refer  to 
the  writings  of  Lyly.  Whether  it  is  to  be  considered  that 
Shakespeare  so  often  imitated  these  writings  because  of  his 
admiration  and  appreciation  of  their  merits  ;  or  whether  it  was 


The  Euphonic  Test.  44 1 

as  some  have  held,  in  sarcastic  derision  of  some  false  conceit  or 
pompous  expression ;  or  because  of  his  readiness  to  take  advan- 
tage of  any  popular  excitement,  which  has  been  pointed  out, 
for  this  reason  he  gave  to  the  public  on  every  new  occasion 
scraps  from  writings  so  popular  with  distinguished  patrons  of 
the  drama,  as  is  recorded  to  be  in  the  mouth  of  every  lady 
at  court; — it  matters  not,  the  fact  remains  that  these  resem- 
blances or  parodies  extensively  exist,  and  are  to  be  found  in 
so  many  of  the  plays,  both  tragedies  and  comedies;  whilst 
the  writings  of  Bacon  are  not  in  any  way  affected  from  the 
same  source.1  The  collated  passages,  highly  interesting  of 
themselves,  from  which  I  shall  quote  but  a  few  examples,  are 
taken  from  an  admirable  and  most  concise  publication  by  Wm. 
Lowes  Rush  ton.  [ "  Shakespeare's  Euphuisms,"  Longman, 
Green,  and  Co.,  London,  1871.] 

ft  The  Euphues  of  Lyly  was  published  before  Shakespeare 
began  to  write  for  the  stage.  It  is  said  that '  all  the  ladies  of 
the  time  were  Lyly's  scholars,  she  who  spoke  not  euphuism 
being  as  little  regarded  at  court  as  if  she  could  not  speak  French/ 
and  that  '  his  invention  was  so  curiously  strung  that  Elizabeth's 
court  held  his  notes  in  admiration/  " 

PARALLELISMS    OF    SHAKESPEARE    AND    LYLY. 

Shakespeare  and  Lyly  use  often  the  same  phrases,  the  same 
thoughts,  and  play  upon  the  same  words. 

It  is  evident  that  Shakespeare  was  very  familiar  with  this 
book,  wherein  I  see  the  origin  of  many  of  the  famous  passages  in 
his  works.  No  line  of  Shakespeare's  has  been  so  much  ques- 
tioned and  curiously  regarded  as  this  one  in  "  As  You  Like  It :  " 

Which,  like  the  toad,  ugly  and  venomous, 
Wears  yet  a  precious  jewel  in  his  head. 


1  John  Lyly,  or  Lilly,  born  1553,  died  1600,  M.A.  of  Oxford,  a  court  wit 
and  poet.  "  His  elaborate,  fanciful,  and  dainty  style  became  the  model  of 
court  conversation  ;"  it  is  parodied  in  Sir  Pierce  Shafton's  speeches  in  "  The 
Monastery,"  and  in  "  Love's  Labour's  Lost  "  in  "Don  Armado.''  He  wrote 
plays  and  songs :  was  parodied  in  Marston's  "  What  You  Will/'  and  Jonson's 
"  Cynthia's  Revels."  He  founded  a  new  English  style,  marked  by  fantastic 
similes  and  illustrations,  formed  by  attributing  fanciful  and  fabulous  pro- 
perties to  animals,  vegetables,  and  minerals. — Encyclopedia, 


442  Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

The  passage  bearing  a  similiar  reference,  in  Lyly,  reads 
thus : — 

"  That  the  fayrer  the  stone  is  in  the  Toade's  head,  the  more 
pestilent  the  poyson  is  in  her  bowelles  ;  that  talk  the  more  it  is 
seasoned  with  fine  phrases,  the  lesse  it  savoreth  of  true  mean- 
ing." 

Far  from  her  nest  the  lapwing  cries  away, 

says  Shakespeare  (Comedy  of  Errors ,  Act  IV.  Scene  2). 

"  Lapwing  .  .  flyeth  with  a  false  cry  farre  from  their  nests, 
making  those  that  look  for  them  seek  where  they  are  not,"  were 
the  words  of  Lyly. 

Two  may  keep  counsaile  if  one  be  away, 

is  the  smooth  and  almost  bird-like  utterances  of  Lyly's  prose, 
from  which  Shakespeare  makes  a  blank  verse  line,  with  scarce  an 
alteration  : — 

Two  may  keep  counsel,  putting  one  away. 

But  the  saying  is  true,  "  The  empty  vessel  makes  the  greatest  sound." 

Henry  V.,  Act  IV.  Scene  4. 

Where  did  Shakespeare  find  the  saying  ? — 

The  empty  vessell  giveth  a  greater  sound  than  the  full  barrell. 

BENE.  Why,  i'  faith,  methinks  she's  too  low  for  a  high  praise,  too  brown 
for  a  fair  praise,  and  too  little  for  a  great  praise  :  only  this  commendation  I 
can  afford  her,  that  were  she  other  than  she  is,  she  were  unhandsome ;  and 
being  no  other  but  as  she  is,  I  do  not  like  her. — Much  Ado  about  Nothing, 
Act  I.  Scene  1. 

I  know  not  how  I  should  commend  your  beauty,  because  it  is  somewhat 
too  brown  ;  nor  your  stature,  being  somewhat  too  low,  etc. 

The  advice  of  Euphues  to  Philautus  is  probably  the  origin  of 
the  advice  of  Polonius  to  Laertes. 

And  these  few  precepts  in  thy  memory  see  thou  character. 

And  to  thee,  Philautus,  ....  if  these  few  precepts  I  give  thee  be 
observed. 

Some  parts  only  of  the  following  passages  are  placed  close 
together,  so  the  resemblance  between  these  few  precepts  may  be 
more  easily  seen  : — 

POLONIUS.  Give  thy  thoughts  no  tongue. 
EFPHUES.  Be  not  lavish  of  thy  tongue. 


The  Euphonic  Test.  443 

POLONIUS.  Do  not  dull  thy  palm  with  entertainment  of  each  new-hatch'd 
unfledged  comrade. 

ETJPHUES.  Every  one  that  shaketh  thee  by  the  hand  is  not  joined  to  thee 
in  heart. 

POLONIUS.  Beware  of  entrance  to  a  quarrel. 

ETJPHUES.  Be  not  quarrellous  for  every  light  occasion.    Beware,  etc. 

POLONIUS.  Give  every  man  thine  ear,  but  few  thy  voice. 

EUPHUES.  It  shall  be  there  better  to  hear  what  they  say,  than  to  speak 
what  thou  think est. 

There  is  much  further  resemblance  to  the  advice  of  Polonius  in 
other  parts  of  Euphues  : — 

POLONIUS.  Costly  thy  habit  as  thy  purse  can  buy,  but  not  expressed  in 
fancy. 

EUPHUES.  Let  your  attire  be  comely,  but  not  costly. 

If  Bacon  had  had  to  write  Polonius'  advice  to  his  son,  we  may 
learn  of  what  character  it  would  be  by  consulting  Bacon's  three 
essays  "  Of  Travel/'  "  Of  Cunning/'  and  "  Of  Negotiating." 
These  three  essays  of  themselves,  carefully  studied,  would  fully 
convince  that  their  author  could  never  have  produced  Polonius' 
advice  to  his  son.  I  do  not,  however,  intend  to  pursue  that  line 
of  argument,  but  to  peer  at  once,  if  I  can,  into  the  rhythm  of 
Bacon's  sentences,  and  advance  to  something  that  can  be 
measured  and  counted.  In  his  essay,  "  Of  Travel/'  he  has  this 
passage : — 

"  The  things  to  be  seen  and  observed  are :  the  courts  of 
princes,  especially  when  they  give  audience  to  ambassadors ;  the 
courts  of  justice  while  they  sit  and  hear  causes :  and  so  of  con- 
sistories ecclesiastic;  the  churches  and  monasteries,  with  the 
monuments  which  are  therein  extant ;  the  walls  and  fortifications 
of  cities  and  towns,  and  so  the  havens  and  harbours ;  antiquities 
and  ruins;  libraries,  colleges,  disputations,  and  lectures  where 
any  are ;  shipping  and  navies ;  houses  and  gardens  of  state  and 
pleasure,  near  great  cities ;  armouries,  arsenals,  magazines,  ex- 
changes, burses,  warehouses,  exercises  of  horsemanship,  fencing, 
training  of  soldiers,  and  the  like.3' 

SHAKESPEARE'S  SUPERIOR  MUSICAL  EXPRESSION. 

Bacon's  arena  here,  as  elsewhere  in  all  similar  instances, 
embraces  merely  the  municipality,  or,  at  most,  the  nation ; 
Shakespeare's  is  invariably  the  world.  With  Bacon  it  is  society 


444   Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

— not  mankind — but  the  influential  classes,  and  the  things 
which  they  create  of  wealth  and  power ;  with  Shakespeare  it  is 
nature,  and  all  those  things  of  life  and  energy  that  spring  from 
her  teeming  breast.  With  regard  to  the  above  extract,  the 
musical  ear  of  Shakespeare  and  Bacon  may  be  therein  shown  to 
differ  in  two  particulars :  Firstly,  that  when  Shakespeare  has 
occasion  to  present  any  such  series  of  particulars,  he  will  not  be 
found  to  continue  a  succession  of  couplets  thus  :  "  churches  and 
monasteries/'  "  walls  and  fortifications,"  of  "  cities  and  towns," 
and  so  the  "  havens  and  harbours/'  "  antiquities  and  ruins," 
"  shipping  and  navies ;"  nor,  secondly,  will  he  ever,  except  some- 
times for  a  comic  effect,  bring  up  suddenly  at  the  close  of  any 
such  series  with  a  jerk,  like  unto  the  above  passage  from  Bacon 
ending  with  " and  the  like"  But  such  terminations  are  by  no 
means  of  rare  occurrence  with  Bacon.  They  are  innumerable. 
And  among  those  ending  with  the  same  phrase  we  meet 
with : — 

" — dreams,  divinations,  and  the  like."  "—orators,  painful 
divines,  and  the  like."  " — sometimes  upon  colleagues,  associ- 
ates, and  the  like."  " — lions,  bears,  camels,  and  the  like." 
" — vain  opinions,  flattering  hopes,  false  valuations,  imaginations 
as  one  would,  and  the  like/' 

"  Sometimes  purging  ill-humours,  sometimes  opening  the 
obstructions,  sometimes  helping  the  digestions,  sometimes  in- 
creasing appetite,  sometimes  healing  wounds,  ulcerations  thereof, 
and  the  like." 

So,  also,  in  further  illustration  of  this  "  chippy  "  ending,  take 
the  following  passage : — 

"  For,  as  the  astronomers  do  well  observe,  that  when  three  of 
the  superior  lights  do  meet  in  conjunction,  it  bringeth  forth 
some  admirable  effects."  Really  !  It  bringeth  forth  admirable 
effects ! 

Obvious  as  it  appears  to  me,  it  would  perhaps  amount  to  little 
in  argument,  to  urge  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  Shake- 
speare to  have  written  the  above  passage.  But  we  will  proceed 
to  examine  how  the  musical  faculty  of  Shakespeare  is  governed 
in  bringing  to  a  close  any  similar  succession  of  particulars.  His 
invariable  method  is  so  to  construct  the  terminational  words — 
and  the  same  would  be  true  in  the  event  of  any  climax — as  to 


The  Euphonic  Test.  445 

afford  the  opportunity  of  what  is  known  in  elocution  as  harmonic 
or  climateric  couplets,  which  imparts  something  of  a  triumphant 
flourish  at  the  end.  So  uniform  is  this,  that  it  matters  not 
where  in  Shakespeare  we  take  our  illustration.  Whether  it  be 
Brutus'  speech  to  the  Romans,  or  Marc  Antony's  oration,  or  any  of 
Henry  the  Fifth's  speeches  to  his  soldiers,  or  his  address  to  Lord 
Scroop,  the  result  would  be,  in  all  instances,  the  same.  We  will 
choose  an  illustration  of  no  more  elevated  a  style  than  Biondello's 
descriptions  of  Petruchio  and  Grumio.  In  the  first  description, 
that  of  Petruchio,  the  last  item,  is  ' '  a  woman's  crupper  of  velure" 
which  has  this  sort  of  pendant  for  a  finish  : — 

Which  hath  two  letters  for  her  name,  fairly  set  down  in  studs,  and  Ivre 
and  there  pieced  with  pack-thread. 

Now  this  is  the  flourish  of  which  I  spoke,  but  for  comic  effect, 
as  I  was  indicating  it  is  permitted  to  end  as  a  sort  of  failure, 
with  the  objectionable  jerk  on  pack-thread,  which  brings  in  the 
laugh,  as  every  one  will  readily  understand,  who  are  any  way 
conversant  with  the  tricks  of  low  comedians.  In  the  other 
instance,  the  description  of  Grumio  is  finished  off  for  a  like  effect, 
with  this  addendum  : — 

A  monster,  a  very  MONSTER  in  apparel,  and  not  like  a  Christian  footboy 
or  gentleman's  lackey, 

In  this  he,  the  actor,  is  allowed  to  come  off  with  the  appearance 
of  more  triumphant  success  : — 

BION.  Why  Petruchio  is  coming,  in  a  new  hat,  and  an  old  jerkin ;  a  pair 
of  old  breeches,  thrice  turned  ;  a  pair  of  boots  that  have  been  candle-cases, 
one  buckled,  another  laced ;  an  old  rusty  sword  ta'en  out  of  the  town  armoury, 
with  a  broken  hilt,  and  chapeless  ;  with  two  broken  points  :  his  horse  heaped 
with  an  old  mothy  saddle,  and  stirrups  of  no  kindred :  besides,  possessed  with 
the  glanders,  and  like  to  mose  in  the  chine ;  troubled  with  the  lampass,  in- 
fected with  the  fashions,  full  of  wind-galls,  sped  with  spavins,  rayed  with  the 
yellows,  past  cure  of  the  fives,  stark  spoiled  with  the  staggers,  begnawn  with 
the  bots  ;  swayed  in  the  back,  and  shoulder-shotten ;  ne'er-legged  before, 
and  with  a  half-cheeked  bit,  and  a  head-stall  of  sheep 's-leather ;  which,  being 
restrained  to  keep  him  from,  stumbling,  hath  been  often  burst,  and  now 
repaired  with  knots  ;  one  girth  six  times  pierced,  and  a  woman's  crupper  of 
velure,  which  hath  two  letters  for  her  name  fairly  set  down  in  studs,  and  here 
and  there  pieced  with  pack-thread. 

BAP.  Who  comes  with  him  ? 

BION.  0,  sir  1  his  lackey,  for  all  the  world  caparisoned  like  the  horse ; 


446    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  Vieiv. 

with  a  linen  stock  on  one  leg,  and  a  kersey  boot-hose  on  the  other,  gartered 
with  a  red  and  blue  list ;  an  old  hat,  and  '  the  amours  or  forty  fancies '  pricked 
in't  for  a  feather :  a  monster,  a  very  monster  in  apparel,  and  not  like  a 
Christian  foot-boy,  or  a  gentleman's  lackey. 

Bacon's  ear  does  not  lead  him  to  seek  any  such  free,  indepen- 
dent, and  exultant  expression  of  enthusiasm  of  which  this  is  some- 
what indicative. 

When  the  subject  is  of  a  more  serious  and  elevated  character 
this  form  of  delivery  centres  in  the  cadence  with  force,  grace, 
and  dignity  combined,  producing  the  noblest  effects  known  to 
the  stage. 

The  following,  from  Shakespeare,  include  nothing  more  than 
the  cadences  attending  the  climaxes  and  endings  of  the  speeches 
from  which  they  are  taken.  The  effect,  I  think,  will  be  felt  by 
most  people,  especially  those  who  have  been  attendants  at  the 
theatre.  Nothing  can  be  farther  from  Shakespeare  than  such 
terminations  with  which  these  culminating  passages  are  con- 
trasted : — 

Do  break  the  clouds  ||  as  did  the  wives  of  Jewry 

At  Herod's  bloody  hunting  slaughter-men.  Henry  F~. 

CEY — God  for  Harry,  England,  and  Saint  George  !  Henry  V. 

If  that  same  demon,  that  hath  gull'd  thee  thus, 

Should,  with  his  lion  gait,  walk  the  whole  world, 

He  might  return  to  vasty  Tartar  back 

And  tell  the  legions  || — I  can  never  win 

A  soul  so  easy  as  that  Englishman's.  Henry  V. 

Arrest  them  to  the  answer  of  the  law ; — 

And  God  acquit  them  of  their  practices.  Henry  V. 

Look  you  here, 
Here  is  himself,  marr'd  as  you  see,  with  traitors. 

Julius  Ccesar. 
And  put  a  tongue 

In  every  wound  of  Caesar,  that  should  move 
The  stones  of  Eome  |  to  rise  and  mutiny.  Julius  Ccesar. 

Shall  in  these  confines,  with  a  monarch's  voice, 

Cry  Havoc  \  and  let  loose  the  dogs  of  war ; 

That  this  foul  deed  shall  smell  above  the  earth 

With  carrion  men  groaning  for  burial.  Julius  Ccesar. 

I'd  make  a  quarry 

With  thousands  of  these  quarter 'd  slaves,  as  high  j| 
As  I  could  pick  my  lance.  Coriolanus. 


The  Euphonic  Test.  447 

This  grace  and  glow  of  termination  is  sometimes  by  Shake- 
speare aided  by  a  rhyme  : — 

Then  brook  abridgment ;  and  your  eyes  advance 

After  your  thought,  straight  back  again  to  France.  Henry  V. 

And  grant  as  Timon  grows,  |  his  hate  may  grow 

To  the  whole  race  ||  of  mankind,  high  and  low.       Timon  of  Athens. 

We'll  then  to  Calais ;  and  to  England  then ;  | 

Where  ne'er  from  France  arrived  more  happy  men.  Henry  V. 

Then  shall  I  swear  to  Kate,  and  you  to  me ;  | 

And  may  our  oaths  well  kept  and  prosperous  be.  Henry  V. 

You  have  now  only  to  glance  at  the  close  of  all  or  some  of 
Bacon's  essays,  and  of  his  other  works,  and  the  endings  of  .his 
long  paragraphs  to  be  satisfied  that  he  never,  from  any  sense  of 
melody,  seeks  at  any  time  to  produce  any  such  cadences  what- 
ever. And  the  absence  of  this  mode  of  termination  in  Bacon's 
writings  indicates  in  him  a  very  different  musical  sense  or  feel- 
ing from  that  of  Shakespeare.  As  further  confirmation  of  Bacon's 
habitual  omission  in  this  respect  when  any  such  opportunity 
would  occur,  I  shall  trespass  on  the  patience  of  your  readers  to 
give  one  or  two  very  short  extracts ;  and  I  shall  then  endeavour 
to  present  other  positive  peculiarities  of  Bacon. 

Thus,  in  his  fine  essay  on  Superstition  he  says, — 

"  The  causes  of  superstition  are,  pleasing  and  sensual  rites  and 
ceremonies;  excess  of  outward  and  pharisaical  holiness;  over 
great  reverence  of  traditions,  which  cannot  but  load  the  church  ; 
the  stratagems  of  prelates  for  their  own  ambition  and  lucre;  the 
favouring  too  much  of  good  intentions,  which  openeth  the  gate 
to  conceits  and  novelties;  the  taking  an  aim  at  divine  matters 
by  human,  which  cannot  but  breed  mixture  of  imaginations ; 
and,  lastly,  barbarous  times,  especially  joined  with  calamities 
and  disasters/' 

Again,  in  his  remarkable  essay  on  Travel,  he  remarks, — 
"  As  for  triumphs,  masks,  feasts,  weddings,  funerals,  capital 
executions,  and  such  shows,  men  need  not  to  be  put  in  mind  of 
them ;  yet  are  they  not  to  be  neglected.  If  you  will  have  a 
young  man  to  put  his  travel  into  a  little  room  and  in  short  time 
to  gather  much,  this  you  must  do  :  first,  as  was  said,  he  must 
have  some  entrance  into  the  language  before  he  goeth ;  then  he 
must  have  such  a  servant,  or  tutor  as  knoweth  the  country,  as 


448     Shakespeare  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

was  likewise  said;  let  him  carry  with  him  also  some  card,  or 
book,  describing  the  country  when  he  travelleth,  which  will  be 
a  good  key  to  his  inquiry ;  let  him  keep  his  diary ;  let  him  not 
stay  long  in  one  city  or  town,  more  or  less  as  the  place  deserveth, 
but  not  long ;  nay,  when  he  stayeth  in  one  city  or  town,  let 
him  change  his  lodgings  from  one  end  and  part  of  the  town  to 
another,  which  is  a  great  adamant  of  acquaintance;  let  him 
sequester  himself  from  the  company  of  his  countrymen,  and  diet 
in  such  places  where  there  is  good  company  of  the  nation  where 
he  travelleth;  let  him,  upon  his  removes  from  one  place  to 
another,  procure  recommendation  to  some  person  of  quality 
residing  in  the  place  whither  he  removeth,  that  he  may  use  his 
favour  in  those  things  he  desireth  to  see  or  know;  thus  he  may 
abridge  his  travel  with  much  profits/' 

I  shall  now  proceed  to  furnish  positive  examples,  to  prove  that 
the  musical  guidance  of  the  ear  of  Bacon  tends,  whenever  he 
speaks  sententiously,  and  the  language  admits  of  it,  to  equally 
balance  his  sentences,  and  the  clauses  which  they  contain,  one 
against  the  other,  either  regularly,  or  alternately,  by  giving  to 
them  the  same  number  of  syllables,  and  also  by  some  other 
expedients.  When  the  first  member  of  a  sentence,  composed  of 
four  clauses,  is  short,  and  the  following  long,  the  corresponding 
clauses  which  follow,  receive  the  same  adjustment.  For  ex- 
ample : — 

"  Read  not  to  contradict  and  confute,  |  Nor,  to  believe  and 
take  for  granted;  |  Nor,  to  find  talk  and  discourse,  |  But  to 
weigh  and  consider/'' 

The  first  two  clauses  are  each  of  nine  syllables ;  the  latter  two 
clauses  are  each  of  seven. 

"  These  men  mark  when  they  hit,  |  but  never  when  they 
miss." 

In  each  of  these  clauses  there  are  the  same  number  of  syl- 
lables. 

"  He  that  hath  the  best  of  these  intentions  |  is  an  honest 
man ;  |  and  that  prince  that  can  discern  of  these  intentions,  j  is 
a  very  wise  prince/'' 

Here  the  clauses  are  ten  syllables  and  five :  twelve  syllables 
and  six. 


The  Euphonic  Test.  449 

"  He  that  seeketh  to  be  eminent  good,  amongst  able  men, 
hath  a  great  task,  |  but  that  is  ever  good  for  the  public ;  |  but 
he  that  plotteth  to  be  the  only  figure  amongst  cyphers,  |  is  the 
decay  of  the  whole  age/' 

Here  the  syllables  are  twenty  to  ten,  and  sixteen  to  eight. 

"  They  do  best  who  if  they  cannot  but  admit  love,  |  yet  make 
it  keep  quarter ;  |  and  sever  it  wholly  from  their  serious  affairs,  | 
and  actions  of  life." 

This  passage  presents  an  alteration,  i.  e.  twelve  syllables  and 
six;  and  then  again,  twelve  syllables  and  six.  The  word 
"  action  "  being  pronounced  as  three  syllables,  as  it  was  then. 

Is  not  this  definite  of  the  kind  of  melody  of  speech  that 
belongs  to  Bacon  ?  How  exact  the  ear !  It  counts  its  seconds 
like  the  pendulum  of  a  clock. 

"The  virtue  of  prosperity  is  temperance,  |  the  virtue  of 
adversity  is  fortitude/'' 

"  Prosperity  is  the  brains  |  of  the  Old  Testament,  |  adversity 
is  the  brains  |  of  the  New." 

This  gives  the  repetition  of  seven  syllables,  and  the  propor- 
tion of  six  and  three. 

"  It  is  better  to  have  no  opinion  of  God  at  all,  |  than  such  an 
opinion  as  is  unworthy  of  Him;  |  for  the  one  is  unbelief,  the 
other  is  contumely." 

Here  we  have  an  example  of  three  groups,  each  of  fourteen 
syllables. 

Like  unto  like,  more  than  similarity,  is  the  guiding  law  of 
Bacon's  ear;  when  therefore  we  can  reflect  a  likeness  in  the 
sentences  in  some  other  way,  he  is  equally  gratified.  Thus,  if  I 
use  the  terms  "  light "  and  "  shadow "  for  expressions  viewed 
with,  or  growing  out  of  a  favourable  or  unfavourable  senti- 
ment in  the  mind  (psychological  bias),  I  can  diagram  the 
logical  arrangement  of  the  thought  to  which  I  allude,  and  this 
balancing  of  ideas  instead  of  syllables,  somewhat  after  the 
following  manner : — 

First  Form  : — Light, — Shadow  ;  contrasted  shadow,  contrasted 
light;  or, 

Second  Form : — Light, — Shadow; parallel  light, parallel  shadow; 
or, 


45 o    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Third  Form : — Amelioration  of  shadow:  augmentation  of  shadow  ; 
arranged  in  the  same  order. 

These  mental  melodies;  if  I  might  so  call  them,  are  very  ex- 
tensive in  Bacon.  An  example  or  two  from  the  Essay  "  Of  Parents 
and  Children  "  will  suggest  my  meaning  : — 

"  Children  sweeten  labours  |  but  they, make  misfortunes  more 
bitter.  |  They  increase  the  care  of  life,  |  but  they  mitigate  the 
remembrance  of  death." 

"  The  joys  of  parents  are  secret,  |  and  so  are  their  griefs  and 
fears ;  \  they  cannot  utter  the  one,  |  nor  they  will  not  utter  the 
other." 

These  are  sufficient,  perhaps,  to  suggest  this  additional  Baco- 
nianism,  and  to  enable  the  reader  to  recognize,  in  Bacon's  works, 
the  numerous  occurrences  of  this  class.  Many  such  illustrations 
would  be  tedious.  All  the  sentences  of  Bacon,  that  we  have 
been  scanning  thus  far,  were  composed  of  either  two  clauses,  or 
of  four,  but  the  most  remarkable  peculiarity  in  Bacon,  in  this 
feature  of  the  rhythmical  adjustment  of  clauses,  attaches  to  those 
sentences  of  his  which  are  composed  of  triple  clauses  of  equal 
dimensions,  and  which  possess  such  regularity,  which  he  never 
seeks  to  disturb,  but  rather  aims  to  accomplish,  as  to  bring  a 
return  unto  the  ear,  much  like  unto  the  repetition  of  the  multi- 
plication table  in  a  village  school.  Let  me  give  some  illustra- 
tions of  these,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  admit  that  they  are 
just  as  regular  as  "three  times  three  are  nine,  three  times  four 
are  twelve,  and  three  times  five  are  fifteen." 

"  A  man  cannot  speak  to  his  son  but  as  &  father,  to  his  wife 
but  as  a  husband,  to  his  enemy  but  upon  terms" 

"  Some  books  are  to  be  tasted,  others  are  to  be  swallowed,  and 
some  few  to  be  chewed  and  digested" 

"  Crafty  men  contemn  studies,  simple  men  admire  them,  and 
wise  men  use  them/1' 

cc  Reading  maketh  a  full  man,  confidence  a  ready  man,  and 
writing  an  exact  man." 

"  Judges  ought  to  be  more  learned  than  witty,  more  reverend 
than  plausible,  and  more  advised  than  confident.-" 

:t  The  advantage  ground  to  do  good,  the  approach  to  kings  and 
principal  persons,  and  the  raising  of  a  man's  own  fortunes." 

But  the  equality  of  these  triple  clauses  is  not  the  only  rhyth- 


The  Euphonic  Test.  45 1 

mical  characteristic.  Bacon's  ear  can  stand  a  great  deal  more 
than  that  in  the  way  of  rigid  and  unbended  rhythm.  He  avails 
himself,  accordingly,  of  the  place  of  the  emphasis,  and  adheres 
to  it  with  persistency.  Therefore  we  find  the  emphasis  regularly 
on  the  last  word  in  the  first  and  second  examples,  on  the  last 
but  one  in  the  third  and  fourth  examples,  on  the  last  but  two 
in  the  fifth  example,  and  near  the  beginning  (on  the  second  word) 
in  the  sixth. 

It  behoves  us,  now,  to  ascertain  and  show  how  Shakespeare 
acts  when  he  is  on  the  verge  of  making  sentences  like  unto 
these.  When  he  has  advanced  so  far  that  you  may  say  he  has 
either  to  perform  the  like,  or  to  avoid  it.  We  know,  beforehand, 
because  we  are  too  familiar  with  his  rhythm  to  expect  to  find  his 
text  to  more  resemble  the  prim  regularity  of  a  French  garden 
than  the  free,  wild  nature  of  a  tangled  forest. 

Shakespeare  does  not  appear  to  object  to  four  or  more  clauses 
of  somewhat  equal  character  and  duration,  but  he  does  to  three. 
We  find  that,  in  avoiding  this  jingle  of  triple  clauses,  which  we 
saw  attached  to  those  which  we  have  produced  from  Bacon,  he 
either  adds  others,  or  he  so  enlarges  and  amplifies  the  third 
clause,  that  the  effect  is  the  same ;  e.  g. : — 

MAEG.  Nay,  by'r  lady,  I  am  not  such  a  fool  to  think  what  I  list ;  nor  I 

list  no  j  to  think  what  I  can ;  nor- 

Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  Act  III.  Scene  4. 

Now,  will  not  Shakespeare  finish  this  sentence  like  unto  Bacon  ? 
Add  but  a  few  words,  and  the  thing  would  be  done ;  but,  no, 
indeed,  this  next  clause  is  destined  to  break  the  regularity : — 

Nay,  by'r  lady,  I  am  not  such  a  fool  to  think  what  I  list ;  nor  I  list 

not  to  think  what  I  can  ;  nor,  indeed,  I  cannot  think,  if  I  would  think  my 
heart  out  of  thinking,  that  you  are  in  love,  or  that  you  will  be  in  love,  or  that 
you  can  be  in  love. 

The  next  example  is  from  a  speech  of  Benedick,  "  Much  Ado 
about  Nothing  "  (Act  I.  Scene  1)  : — 

That  a  woman  conceived  me,  I  thank  her ;  that  she  brought  me  up,  I  like- 
wise give  her  most  humble  thanks ;  but  that  I  will  have  an  escheat  winded  in 
my  forehead,  or  hang  my  bugle  in  an  invisible  baldrick,  all  women  shall 
pardon  me. 

Cannot  every  one  see  the  greater  perfection  of  this  over  the 


452    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

other  regularity  ?     But  that  matters  not,  we  argue  only  for  the 
distinction. 

Not  to  go  beyond  "  Much  ado  About  Nothing/'  to  hunt  for 
examples,  take  the  following  passage  (Act  IV.  Scene  1)  : — 

FBIAR.  I  have  mark'd 

A  thousand  blushing  apparitions  start 
Into  her  face ;  a  thousand  innocent  shames 
In  angel  whiteness  bear  away  those  blushes  ; 
And  in  her  eye  there  hath  appear'd  a  fire, 
To  burn  the  errors,  that  these  princes  hold 
Against  her  maiden  truth. 

How  evident  it  is  that  another  hand  is  here  at  work,  and  one 
that  scrupulously  avoids  the  characteristics  of  the  Baconian  sen- 
tences !  But  a  few  lines  further  on,  in  the  same  scene,  we  find  a 
passage  suited  to  our  purpose.  In  the  following  fiery  speech  of 
Leonato,  th3  father  of  the  slandered  "  Hero,"  observe  the 
animated  and  stirring  effect  of  Shakespeare's  varied  rhythm, 
produced  in  a  way  directly  contrary  to  Bacon  by  a  sudden 
change  in  the  place  of  the  emphasis  : — 

LEON.  If  they  speak  but  truth  of  her, 

These  hands  shall  tear  her ;  if  they  wrong  her  honour, 

The  proudest  of  them  shall  well  hear  of  it : 

Time  hath  not  yet  so  dried  this  blood  of  mine, 

Nor  age  so  eat  up  my  invention, 

Nor  fortune  made  such  havoc  of  my  means, 

Nor  my  bad  life  reft  me  so  much  of  friends, 

But  they  shall  find,  awaked  in  such  a  kind, 

Both  strength  of  limb,  and  policy  of  mind, 

Ability  in  means,  and  choice  of  friends, 

To  quit  me  of  them  throughly. 

Not  another  line  need  be  presented  to  establish  the  distinction 
between  the  music  and  melody  of  such  passages  as  we  have 
reviewed  in  Bacon  and  this  which  reigns  in  Shakespeare. 

Although  I  am  supposed  to  be  confined  to  narrower  and  more 
technical  limits,  to  which  I  have  sought  to  keep,  it  may  not  be 
considered  improper  of  me,  in  closing  these  remarks,  to  advert, 
in  the  briefest  manner,  to  a  single  feature  of  individuality  which 
we  think  paramount  in  our  poet. 


The  Euphonic  Test.  453 


SUPERIOR  BREADTH  OF  HIS  NATURE. 

What,  then,  of  that  wide  and  wonderful  sympathy  with  human 
nature,  which  he  must  have  had,  and  by  which  alone  he  could  so 
have  depicted  the  wide  tide  of  passions,  and  the  innermost  emo- 
tions of  both  man  and  woman,  all  of  which  he  must  have  been 
able  so  keenly  to  feel  ?  And  where,  in  Bacon,  do  we  find  the 
evidence  of  the  possessions  of  such  sympathy  ?  To  listen  to  these 
secret  throbs  of  human  emotion  in  any  great  degree,  we  should 
need  to  travel  over  his  whole  continent.  But  as  here,  the  com- 
parison on  our  side  is  as  "  all  the  world  to  nothing,"  I  may  well 
rest  content  by  simply  helping  the  reader,  out  of  his  own  abun- 
dance of  recollections,  to  recall  one  or  two  as  they  come  to  my  own 
mind.  Go  with  me,  then,  to  look  upon  Lear,  "  as  mad  as  the 
vexed  sea,"  and,  in  the  midst  of  thunders  and  lightnings,  address- 
ing first  these  awful  forces  of  nature,  and  then,  from  them,  the 
equally  awful  iniquities  of  the  world  : — 

Blow,  wind,  and  crack  your  cheeks  !  rage  !  blow  ! 
You  cataracts,  and  hurricanes,  spout. 
You  sulphurous  and  thought-executing  fires, 
Vaunt  couriers  to  oak-cleaving  thunderbolts. 

And  thou  all  shaking  thunder 
Strike  flat  the  thick  rotundity  o'  the  world  ! 

Let  the  great  gods 

That  keep  this  dreadful  pother  o'er  our  "heads 
Find  out  their  enemies  now. 

Tremble,  thou  wretch, 
That  hast  within  thee  undivulged  crimes, 
Unwhipp'd  of  justice. 

Hide  thee,  thou  bloody  hand ; 
Thou  perjured,  and  thou  simular  man  of  virtue 
That  art  incestuous :  Caitiff,  to  pieces  shake, 
That  under  cover  and  convenient  seeming 
Hast  practised  on  man's  life !     Close  pent-up  guilts, 
Rive  your  concealing  continents  and  cry, 
These  dreadful  summoners  grace. 

Look  upon  Coriolanus  like  a  mad  and  wounded  lion,  and  with 
his  heart  "  made  too  great  for  what  contains  it," — 

Cut  me  to  pieces,  Volsces  ;  men  and  lads, 
Stain  all  your  edges  on  me. — Boy  !  False  hound  ! 
30 


454    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

If  you  have  writ  your  annals  true,  'tis  these, 
That,  like  an  eagle  in  a  dove-cote,  I 
Flutter'd  your  Volscians  in  Corioli. 

Step  stealthily,  lighted  by  the  moon,  to  the  presence  of  Juliet's 
body  in  the  tomb,  place  yourself  in  the  darkness,  and  there  hear 
Romeo  with  a  broken  heart  murmur  to  himself, — 

0,  here 

Will  I  set  up  my  everlasting  rest ; 
And  shake  the  yoke  of  inauspicious  stars 
From  this  world-wearied  flesh. 

And,  after  an  ominous  silence,  as  with  one  swoop,  he  seeks  the 
silent  shore  with  his  desperate  and  life-destroying  agent : — 

Thou  desperate  pilot,  now  at  once  run  on 
The  dashing  rocks  thy  sea-sick,  weary  bark  ! 

Recall,  in  like  manner,  the  other  tragic  characters  of  this  poet 
in  the  hours  of  their  greatest  anguish,  and  tell  me  if  these  are  not 
individual  experiences  of  which  Bacon  gives  no  possible  indica- 
tion. But  this  is  superfluous,  because,  as  I  have  said,  there  is 
nothing  in  the  Baconian  treasury  with  which  to  compare  these 
crises  of  emotion  ;  they  belong  to  the  one  structure  of  all  others 
in  the  world,  but  one  so  conspicuous,  that  it  stands  high  above 
all  that  genius  has  raised  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  so  towering 
and  wide  that  the  pyramids  of  Egypt  cannot  hide  it ;  more  com- 
plex, and  infinitely  richer  in  its  art  contents  than  that  of  St. 
Peter's  at  Rome — stands  this  treasure-house,  over  whose  gates  is 
nscribed  the  one  name, 

SHAKESPEARE. 


Recapitulation  and  Conclusion.  455 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

RECAPITULATION   AND   CONCLUSION. 

WITH  the  euphonic  or  rhetorical  test,  as  applied  respectively  to 
the  verbal  music  and  rhythmical  modes  of  expression  of  Shake- 
speare and  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  terminates  the  inquiry  upon  the 
question  of  dramatic  authorship  as  between  them ;  and  I  think 
it  will  be  conceded  by  every  reader  that  I  was  fortunate  in  being 
able  to  entrust  the  elocutionary  p'ortion  of  the  problem  to  Pro- 
fessor Taverner.  Indeed,  he  has  been  so  masterly  in  his  analysis, 
and  has  brought  to  the  treatment  of  the  question  confided  to  him, 
such  an  amount  of  philosophic  insight  and  consideration,  that  no 
reinforcement  of  his  argument  is  required  at  my  hands.  We 
perceive  that  the  contrasts  of  literary  style  are,  under  the 
direction  of  the  ear,  as  distinct  and  various  as  the  inflections 
of  the  human  voice,  and  through  his  examples  it  becomes  apparent 
to  any  one  who  has  crossed  even  the  threshold  of  the  euphonic 
mysteries,  that  it  is  as  impossible  for  the  comparatively  cold  ear 
of  Lord  Bacon  to  have  been  the  author  of  the  melodious  plays  of 
Shakespeare,  as  it  would  have  been  for  Dante  to  have  produced 
the  verse  of  Petrarch,  or  for  Carlyle  to  have  written  the  sonnets 
of  Tom  Moore.  Indisputably  our  poet  was  the  great  master  of  that 
school  of  prose  melodists  of  which  Gibbon,  Addison,  Doctor 
Johnson,  Junius,Macaulay,  and  Newman  are  subordinate  examples, 
while  Bacon,  on  the  other  hand,  may  be  said  to  lead  the  colder 
school,  of  which  our  readiest  example  is  Carlyle. 

I  have  but  to  add,  in  closing  this  portion  of  my  undertaking, 
that  the  euphonic  or  musical  test  was  no  part  of  my  original 
purpose.  But  though  it  presented  itself,  incidentally,  during  the 
course  of  the  Baconian  analysis,  I  find  no  reason  to  regret  the 
space  it  has  required.  To  the  multitude,  its  proofs  may  appear 
less  potent  than  some  others  I  have  advanced,  but  with  scholars 
and  rhetorical  experts  the  euphonic  test  will  probably  be  more 
fatal  to  the  Baconian  theory  than  any  other. 


456    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of -View. 

The  religious  test  also  sprang  incidentally  from  the  dispute  of 
*  authorship,  for  it  must  be  evident  that  a  theological  inquiry  could 
have  no  importance  in  an  examination  which  proceeded  from  an 
American  point  of  view.  It  will  be  perceived,  therefore,  that  I 
had  no  sectarian  aim  to  serve,  as  some  have  charged  while  the 
foregoing  chapters  were  in  course  of  serial  publication.  The 
sectarian  inquiry  grew  from  the  numerous  evidences  of  a 
devotional  Romanistic  spirit  in  the  Shakespearian  text,  and  as 
these  all  ran  one  way,  and  breathed  one  sectarian  tone,  and, 
what  was  still  more  significant,  as  the  writer  of  the  plays 
frequently  contrasted  these  Catholic  solemnities  with  a  vehement 
contempt  for  the  reformed  faith  and  for  Protestants  of  every 
degree,  it  was  impossible  to  leave  the  religious  inquiry  out  of  the 
discussion.  I  am  not  responsible  for  the  proofs  I  have  adduced, 
but  I  am  free  to  say  that  I  can  conceive  of  no  reason  why  Lord 
Bacon  should  have  secretly  slandered  his  much  exhibited  belief, 
nor  how  such  a  peculiarly  practical  nature  as  his,  could  have  en- 
joyed such  a  pointless  perfidy,  under  the  cowardly  mask  of  an 
alias. 

It  has  been  said,  by  way  of  explaining  the  Romanism  of 
Shakespeare's  writings,  and  of  his  custom  of  arraying  his  most 
estimable  characters  in  the  vestments  of  the  Latin  Church,  that 
the  plots  of  his  plays  are  placed  before  his  time,  and  that  his 
persons  must  necessarily  be  of  the  Catholic  faith ;  but  this  does 
not  explain  our  poet's  minute  familiarity  with  the  formula  and 
doctrines  of  the  Roman  faith;  since  it  is  well  known  that  no 
Catholic  Services  were  permitted  by  law  to  be  performed  in 
England  during  Shakespeare's  period ;  nor  does  this  suggestion 
quite  account  for  the  predilection  exhibited  by  the  writer  of  the 
plays  to  burlesque  and  scandalize  Protestants  and  the  Protestant 
faith.  In  the  discussion  of  the  Baconian  theory,  therefore,  the 
religious  point  must  be  regarded  as  the  domineering  test;  for 
unless  it  can  be  shown  that  Bacon  was  secretly  a  Catholic,-  the 
Shakespearian  plays  cannot  possibly  be  attributed  to  him. 

The  question  as  to  the  legal  attainments  of  our  poet,  which 
has  attracted  great  attention  through  the  opinions  of  Lord  Chief 
Justice  Campbell,  is  only  second  in  importance,  on  the  point  of 
authorship,  to  the  sectarian  inquiry.  In  dealing  with  this  unex- 
pected difficulty,  I  found  myself  involved  with  the  dangerous 
responsibility  of  often  not  agreeing  with  such  high  authority  as 


Recapitulation  and  Conclusion*  457 

Lord  Campbell,  and  even  of  expressing,  now  and  then,  very 
different  views  from  those  which  the  text  had  suggested  to  his  lord- 
ship. And,  in  a  general  way,  it  seemed  to  me  that  his  lordship, 
in  replying  to  Mr.  Payne  Collyer's  inquiry,  as  to  the  extent  of 
Shakespeare's  legal  attainments,  with  the  view  of  testing  the 
Baconian  theory,  took  too  narrow  a  gauge — when  attempting  to 
show  that  Shakespeare  might  have  been  an  attorney,  or  an 
attorney's  clerk — to  measure  the  legal  stature  of  Lord  Bacon. 

We  know  that  Bacon  was  not  only  master  of  the  profoundest 
lore  of  his  profession,  but  we  always  find  him  handling  his  facts 
in  the  broadest  and  most  philosophical  spirit ;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  writer  of  the  plays  constantly  violates  all  the 
congruities  and  philosophy  of  law,  and  exhibits  such  a  legal 
deficiency  in  his  moral  adjustments  of  rewards  and  punishments, 
and,  particularly,  evinces  such  indifference  to  the  instinctive 
logic  of  retaliation,  that  it  is  utterly  unreasonable  to  attribute 
the  authorship  of  these  productions  to  a  lawyer  of  any  degree, 
much  less  to  such  a  lawyer  as  Lord  Bacon. 

The  plays  most  conspicuous  for  these  legal  errors  and  de- 
ficiencies are, — The  "  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona/'  "  The  Comedy 
of  Errors,"  "  Measure  for  Measure,"  "  A  Winter's  Tale,"  and 
most  notably  "  The  Merchant  of  Venice."  The  examination  of 
these  productions,  from  the  point  of  view  I  indicate,  will  doubt- 
less be  as  destructive  of  the  Baconian  fallacy,  with  lawyers,  as  the 
demonstrations  of  the  euphonic  test  must  be  with  rhetoricians. 

We  may  be  told,  at  this  stage,  that  such  an  extent  of  search 
and  demonstration  as  I  have  devoted  to  these  Baconian  points 
is  not  necessary  to  dispose  of  a  bubble  which  had  never  floated 
among  the  public  with  any  amount  of  success ;  and  we  may  be 
flippantly  assured  that  the  inexorable  reasoning  faculty  of  Time 
alone,  would,  of  itself,  dispel  the  fallacy;  but  such  contemptuous 
treatment  is  not  adequate  to  the  destruction  of  a  theory  which 
has  received  the  support  of  such  minds  as  that  of  Lord  Palmer- 
ston  in  England,  and  such  scholars  and  critics  as  Judge  Holmes 
and  General  Butler  in  America.  Bubbles  thus  patronized  must 
be  entirely  exploded,  or  they  will  be  sure  to  reappear,  whenever 
the  world  has  a  sick  or  idle  hour,  and  delusions  find  their  oppor- 
tunity to  strike.  Moreover,  nothing  is  lost  by  our  inquiries,  after 
all,  beyond  a  little  time ;  and  I  doubt  not  that  all  true  admirers 
of  our  poet  will  agree,  that  one  new  ray  of  light  which  may  thus 


458    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

be  thrown  upon  the  character  and  history  of  Shakespeare,  will 
justify  octavos  of  discussion. 

It  was  the  Baconian  pretension,  at  any  rate,  which  gave  the 
deciding-  impulse  to  the  undertaking  of  this  work.  My  original 
intention  had  been  to  confine  my  labour  to  an  examination  of 
the  plays,  with  the  view  solely  of  ascertaining  the  character  of 
Shakespeare's  social  and  political  sympathies  from  an  American 
point  of  view,  but  it  has  been  seen  how  this  motive  has  been  in- 
voluntarily extended,  and  how  utterly  absent  it  has  been  from 
any  special  design  to  undervalue  Shakespeare's  acquirements,  his 
morals,  or  his  genius.  It  is  by  no  means  an  agreeable  task  to 
expose  the  deformities  of  one's  favourite  author,  but  all  mere 
mortals  must  be  held  responsible  for  their  errors,  in  the  general 
interest  of  mankind,  and  the  duty  of  exhibiting  these  errors  is 
all  the  more  incumbent,  according  to  the  authority  of  the  author 
who  commits  them.  The  world  must  move  on,  and  Shakespeare 
must  face  the  ordeal  of  improved  ideas,  with  all  others ;  and  those 
who  love  him  most,  may  solace  themselves  with  the  reflection,  that 
there  will  be  more  renown  left  to  him,  even  after  his  purgation, 
than  to  any  other  poet  of  the  world, 

It  undoubtedly  gives  many  well-intentioned  persons  pain  to 
have  to  tear  and  patch  a  favourite  ideal,  but,  as  I  have  already 
said,  the  general  interests  of  mankind  are  superior  to  per- 
sonal considerations,  and  it  is  weak  to  resist  any  process  that  is 
required  by  reason.  The  blind  idolaters  of  Dante,  doubtless, 
protested  in  their  time,  against  the  frankness  of  the  writers  who 
showed  him  to  be  mean,  crafty,  and  malignant;  so,  likewise, 
have  admiring  biographers  of  Bacon  protested  against  the  ex- 
posures which  justified  Pope  in  characterizing  him  as  "  The 
wisest,  brightest,  meanest  of  mankind;'"  but  the  just  condemna- 
tion of  moral  defects  do  not  prevent  Dante  from  being  worshipped 
to  this  day,  as  the  greatest  of  the  Italian  poets,  or  deduct,  in  the 
least,  from  the  renown  of  Bacon,  as  the  greatest  philosophical 
writer  of  any  land  or  age. 

When,  therefore,  we  find  Shakespeare,  despite  the  clearness  of 
his  observation  and  of  his  towering  capacity,  deliberately  falsi- 
fying history  in  order  to  check  the  march  of  liberal  ideas,  as  in  his 
misrepresentation  of  the  character  and  purposes  of  Jack  Cade,  or 
as  in  his  patronage  of  despotism,  murder,  and  incest,  through  his 
attractive  and  popular  portrait  of  Henry  VIII. ;  when  we  hear  him 


Recapitulation  and  Conclusion.  459 

commending  the  massacre  of  thousands,  in  violation  of  solemn 
terms  of  truce,  as  in  "Henry  IV.,"  Part  Second,  and  in  the  Second 
Part  of  "Henry  VI.;"  when  we  listen  to  his  inculcations  of  con- 
tempt for  mechanics  and  mechanical  pursuits,  and  note  his  un- 
bounded detestation  for  all  the  labouring  classes,  as  in  "  Corio- 
lanus,"  and,  indeed,  throughout  his  works, — we  of  this  day  feel 
bound  to  interpose  our  protest,  and  to  question  his  right  of  respect 
for  these  opinions  in  either  English  or  American  modern  house- 
holds. 

It  has  been  pleaded  that  the  manners  and  morals  of  the  age  in 
which  Shakespeare  lived,  excuse  not  only  his  political  illiberality, 
but  palliate  even  the  coarseness  of  his  text ;  but  this  defence  be- 
comes of  very  little  weight  when  we  find  the  same  age  producing 
historians,  who  prided  themselves  on  their  veracity,  even  when  it 
ran  counter  to  the  Court,  and  by  writers  whose  chaste  and 
decorous  style  commended  their  works  to  a  large  contemporaneous 
popularity.  Of  these  latter,  Lord  Bacon  was  a  bright  example, 
while  Hall  and  Hollinshed,  the  historians  of  the  day,  are  a 
standing  reproach  to  Shakespeare,  since  he  followed  their  chronicles 
faithfully  in  all  that  enabled  him  to  eulogize  the  nobles,  but 
perverted  them  at  once,  whenever  he  had  an  oportunity  to  vilify 
the  People.  It  is  always  a  doubtful  privilege  for  a  writer  to 
tamper  with  the  rigours  of  history,  even  to  aid  a  moral  purpose, 
but  nothing  can  palliate  a  deliberate  untruth  for  the  purposes  of 
evil. 

It  may  be  thought  by  some  that  I  have  been  too  diligent 
in  searching  for  evidences  of  Shakespeare's  servility  to  rank, 
but  the  candid  reader  will  do  me  the  justice  to  observe  that  I 
have  not  offered  every  instance  as  an  argument,  and  will  also 
bear  in  mind  that  my  engagement  to  give  every  expression 
tending  to  illustrate  that  point  left  me  no  discretion.  I  had 
constituted  the  reader  as  the  judge,  and  accumulation  even  of 
trifles  has  a  certain  gravity  in  argument  of  which  he  had  the 
right  to  weigh.  Accumulations  of  an  unvarying  tendency  form 
presumptions,  and  presumptions,  though  not  conclusive,  have  a 
logical  bearing  on  a  case. 

Candid  readers  will  likewise  do  me  the  justice  to  observe  that, 
earnest  as  I  have  been  in  some  of  my  condemnations  of  the 
Shakespeare  text,  I  am  far  behind  several  of  the  most  eminent 
English  critics  in  their  censure  of  our  poet's  faults.  Doctor 


460    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

Johnson  says,  in  his  incomparable  preface,  that  Shakespeare  "  has 
faults  sufficient  to  obscure  and  overwhelm  any  other  merit ;"  that 
he  sacrifices  virtue  to  convenience,  and  is  so  much  more  care- 
ful to  please  than  to  instruct,  that  he  seems  to  write  without  any 
moral  purpose  ;  that  he  makes  no  just  distribution  of  good  and 
evil,  nor  is  always  careful  to  show,  in  the  virtuous,  a  disapproba- 
tion of  the  wicked ;  he  carries  his  persons  indifferently  through 
right  or  wrong,  and  at  the  close  dismisses  them  without  further 
care,  and  leaves  their  examples  to  operate  by  chance.  This 
fault  the  barbarity  of  his  age  cannot  extenuate,  for  it  is  always 
a  writer's  duty  to  make  the  world  better,  and  justice  is  a  virtue 
independent  of  time  or  place."  In  speaking  of  "  Love's  Labour's 
Lost/'  Doctor  Johnson  declares  the  play  to  be  "  filled  with 
passages  that  are  mean,  childish,  and  vulgar,  and  some  which 
ought  not  to  have  been  exhibited,  as  we  are  told  they  were, 
before  a  maiden  Queen." 

Ben  Jonson,  when  told  that  Shakespeare  had  never  blotted 
out  a  line,  wished  "  that  he  had  blotted  out  a  thousand." 
Bagehot  says,  in  his  "  Estimates  of  Some  Englishmen  and 
Scotchmen/'  that  Shakespeare  had  two  leading  political  ideas, — 
"  First,  the  feeling  of  loyalty  towards  the  ancient  polity  of  his 
country,  not  because  it  was  good,  but  because  it  existed.  .  .  .  The 
second  peculiar  tenet  of  his  political  creed  is  a  disbelief  in  the 
middle  classes.  We  fear  he  had  no  opinion  of  traders.  .  .  .  You 
will  generally  find  that,  when  a  citizen  is  mentioned,  he  is  made 
to  do  or  to  say  something  absurd." 

Says  Hazlitt, — "  The  whole  dramatic  moral  of  '  Coriolanus ' 
is,  that  those  who  have  little  shall  have  less,  and  that  those  who 
have  much  shall  take  all  that  the  others  have  left.  The  People 
are  poor,  therefore  they  ought  to  be  starved.  They  work  hard, 
therefore  they  ought  to  be  treated  like  beasts  of  burden.  They 
are  ignorant,  therefore  they  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to  feel  that 
they  want  food,  or  clothing,  or  rest,  or  that  they  are  enslaved, 
oppressed,  or  miserable." 

Gervinius,  the  master  of  the  German  Shakespearians,  taking 
up  this  view  of  Hazlitt's,  remarks  that  "  Shakespeare  had  a 
leaning  to  the  aristocratical  principle,  inasmuch  as  he  does  not 
dwell  on  the  truths  he  tells  of  the  nobles  in  the  same  proportion 
as  he  does  on  those  he  tells  of  the  People." 

All  of  these  censures  are  more  than  justified  by  the  illustra- 


Recapitulation  and  Conclusion*  461 

tions  I  have  given  from  the  plays.  Nevertheless,  I  have  not 
gone  so  far  as  Doctor  Johnson,  when  he  says  that  Shakespeare 
"  has  faults  sufficient  to  obscure  and  overwhelm  any  other  merit/-' 
for  at  the  end  of  this  inquiry  I  find  myself  still  of  the  opinion 
that  his  merits  largely  outweigh  his  faults,  and  adhere  to  the 
expression  of  my  preface,  that  "his  works  are  the  richest 
inheritance  of  the  intellectual  world. "  That  he  is,  in  short, 
the  one  man  who,  above  all  others,  whether  alive  or  dead,  has 
contributed  more  happy  hours  to  the  civilized  world,  certainly  to 
those  in  it  who  speak  his  language,  than  any  other  man  who  ever 
lived. 

In  concluding  my  task,  I  have  only  to  add  that,  if  I  have 
contributed  any  new  light  to  a  subject  which  has  taxed  so  many 
patient  intellects  so  long,  I  am  sufficiently  well  paid. 


462    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 


POSTSCEIPT. 

JUST  as  I  have  brought  my  labours  to  a  close,  here  comes  to 
me  a  little  volume  containing  some  evidence  on  the  subject  of 
Shakespeare's  personal  history,  which  I  deem  worthy  of  being 
presented  in  connexion  with  Professor  Taverner's  Analysis.  It 
is  entitled  "  Bacon  versus  Shakespeare :  a  Plea  for  the  Defen- 
dant. By  Thomas  D.  King,  Montreal  and  Rouse's  Point,  New 
York.  Level  Printing  and  Publishing  Company,  ] 875.""  The 
entire  of  Mr.  King's  volume  is  ingenious,  and  exceedingly  well 
written.  He  is  a  faithful  believer  in  Shakespeare's  having  been 
the  author  of  the  plays  attributed  to  him,  and  towards  the  close 
of  his  book  presents  some  exceedingly  curious  observations 
respecting  the  evident  Warwickshire  origin  of  our  poet,  coinciding 
with  our  musical  point.1  Says  Mr.  King, — 

"  Johnson,  himself  born  in  a  neighbouring  county,  first  pointed  out  that 
the  expression  '  a  mankind  witch,'  in  '  The  Winter's  Tale '  (Act  II.  Scene  3) 
was  a  phrase  in  the  Midland  Counties  for  a  violent  woman.  And  Malone, 
too,  showed  that  the  singular  expression  in  '  The  Tempest'  (Act  I.  Scene  2), 
'  we  cannot  miss  him,'  was  a  provincialism  of  the  same  district.  It  is  not 
asserted  that  certain  phrases  and  expressions  are  to  be  found  nowhere  else  but 
in  Shakespeare  and  Warwickshire.  But  it  is  interesting  to  know  that  the 
Warwickshire  girls  still  speak  of  their  '  long  purples  '  and  '  love  in  idleness  ; ' 
and  that  the  Warwickshire  boys  have  not  forgotten  their  '  deadmen's 
fingers ;'  and  that  the  '  nine  men's  morris  '  is  still  played  on  the  corn-bins  of 
the  Warwickshire  farm  stables,  and  still  scored  upon  the  greensward ;  and 
that  Queen  Titania  would  not  have  now  to  complain,  as  she  did  in  '  The 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream,'  that  it  was  choked  up  with  mud ;  and  thai 
*  Master  Slender '  would  find  his  shovel-board  still  marked  on  many  a  public- 
house  table  and  window-sill ;  and  that  he  and  '  Master  Fenton,'  and  '  good 
Master  Brook,'  would,  if  now  alive,  hear  themselves  still  so  called. 

"  Take  now,  for  instance,  the  word  *  deck,'  which  is  so  common  throughout 
the  Midland  Counties,  but  in  Warwickshire  is  so  often  restricted  to  the 
sense  of  a  hand  of  cards,  and  which  gives  a  far  better  interpretation  to 
Gloster's  speech  in  the  Third  Part  of  '  King  Henry  VI.'  (Act  VI.  Scene  1)  :— 

Alas,  that  Warwick  had  no  more  forecast, 
But  whiles  he  thought  to  steal  the  single  ten, 
The  king  was  slyly  finger'd  from  the  deck  ; 

1  Bacon  was  born  in  York  House,  London.  York  House  stood  on  the  site 
of  the  old  Hungerford  Market,  close  by  the  Charing  Cross  Railway  Station, 
and  has  an  existing  record  in  Inigo  Jones's  graceful  water-gate,  half- 
buried  at  the  end  of  Northumberland  Street. 


Postscript.  463 

as,  of  course,  there  might  be  more  kings  than  one  in  a  pack,  but  not 
necessarily  so  in  the  hand.  The  word  '  forecast,'  too,  both  as  verb  and 
noun,  is  very  common  throughout  both  Warwickshire  and  the  neighbouring 
counties.  This  word  *  forecast '  is  also  used  by  Spenser,  and  others  of 
Shakespeare's  contemporaries ;  and,  though  obsolete,  except  among  the 
peasantry  of  the  Midland  districts,  is  still  employed  by  the  best  American 
authors. 

"  All  the  commentators  here  explain  pugging-tooth  as  a  thievish  tooth,  an 
explanation  which  certainly  itself  requires  to  be  explained ;  but  most 
Warwickshire  country-people  could  tell  them  that  pugging-tooth  was  the 
same  as  pegging  or  peg-tooth,  that  is  the  canine  or  dog-tooth.  '  The  child 
has  not  its  pegging-teeth  yet,'  old  women  still  say.  And  thus  all  the 
difficulty  as  to  the  meaning  is  at  once  cleared. 

"  But  there  is  an  expression  used  both  by  Shakespeare  and  his  contem- 
poraries, which  must  not  be  so  quickly  passed  over.  Wherever  there  has 
been  an  unusual  disturbance  or  ado,  the  lower  orders  round  Stratford-on- 
Avon  invariably  characterize  it  by  the  phrase  '  there  has  been  old  work  to- 
day,' which  well  interprets  the  porter's  allusion  in  '  Macbeth,'  (Act  III. 
Scene  3),  '  If  a  man  were  porter  of  hell-gate,  he  should  have  old  turning  the 
key,'  which  is  simply  explained  in  the  notes  as  *  frequent,'  but  which  means 
far  more.  So,  in  '  The  Merchant  of  Venice '  (Act  IV.  Scene  2),  Portia  says, 
*  We  shall  have  old  swearing ;'  that  is,  very  hard  swearing. 

"  A  peculiar  use  of  the  verb  '  quoth,'  the  Saxon  preterite  of  to  speak,  is 
very  noticeable  among  the  lower  orders  in  Warwickshire.  Jerk,  quoth  the 
ploughshare  ;  that  is,  the  ploughshare  went  jerk. 

"  The  expressive  compound  Hood-bolter' d,  in  '  Macbeth '  (Act  IV.  Scene 
1),  which  the  critics  have  all  thought  meant  blood-stained ;  now  bolter  is 
peculiarly  a  Warwickshire  word,  signifying  to  clot,  collect,  or  cake,  as 
snow  does  in  a  horse's  hoof,  thus  giving  the  phrase  a  far  greater  intensity  o£ 
meaning.  There  is  the  word  gull  in  '  Timon  of  Athens  '  (Act  II.  Scene  1) : — 

But  I  do  fear 

When  every  feather  sticks  in  his  own  wing, 

Lord  Timon  will  be  left  a  naked  gull, 

Which  flashes  now  a  phoenix  ; 

which  most  of  the  critics  have  thought  alluded  to  a  sea-gull,  whereas  it  means 
an  unfledged  nestling,  which  to  this  day  is  so  called  in  Warwickshire.  And 
this  interpretation  throws  a  light  on  a  passage  in  the  First  Part  of  '  King 
Henry  VI.'  (Act  V.  Scene  1)  :— 

You  used  me  so 

As  that  ungentle  gull,  the  cuckoo's  bird, 

Useth  the  sparrow ; 

where  some  notes  amusingly  say  that  the  word  alludes  to  the  voracity  of 
the  cuckoo.  The  Warwickshire  farmers'  wives,  even  now,  call  their  young 
goslings  gulls. 

"  Contain  yourself  is  a  very  common  Warwickshire  phrase  for  restrain 
yourself ;  Timon  says  to  his  creditor's  servant,  '  contain  yourself,  good 
friend.'  ('  Timon  of  Athens,'  Act  II.  Scene  2).'  In  '  Troilus  and  Cressida' 
(Act  V.  Scene  2),  Ulysses  says, — 


464    Shakespeare,  from  an  American  Point  of  View. 

0  contain  yourself, 
Your  passion  draws  ears  hither. 

"  In  the  '  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona '  (Act  IV.  Scene  4)  we  find  Launce 
using  the  still  rarer  phrase  of '  keep  himself/  in  th  e  same  sense  to  his  dog 
Crab,  when  he  says,  '  0 !  'tis  a  foul  thing  when  a  cur  cannot  keep  (i.  e. 
restrain)  himself  in  all  companies.' 

"  From  '  Shakespereana  Genealogica/  in  the  chapter  headed  '  Remarks  on 
Names  belonging  to  Warwickshire,  alluded  to  in  several  plays,'  the  following 
excerpts  are  taken  : — 

"  Mr.  Halliwell  has  shown  that  persons  of  the  name  of  Ford,  Page,  Home, 
or  Herne  belonged  to  Stratford.  In  the  records  of  the  borough,  published 
by  that  excellent  writer,  notices  of  receipts  and  payments  are  found  as 
follows  :— 

1597,  K.  of  Thomas  Fordes  wiffe  vi  s.  viij  d. 

1585,  Paid  to  Herne  for  iij  dayes  work,  ij  s.  vj  d. 

"The  name  of  the  melancholy  Lord  Jaques  belongs  to  Warwickshire, 
where  it  is  pronounced  as  one  syllable :  *  Thomas  Jakes  of  Wonersh '  was 
one  of  the  List  of  Gentry  of  the  Shire,  12  Henry  VI.  1433.  At  the  surrender 
of  the  Abbey  of  Kenilworth,  26  Henry  VIII.  1535,  the  Abbot  was  Simon 
Jakes,  who  had  the  large  pension  of  £100  per  annum  granted  to  him. 
Monasticon,  vol.  vi. 

"  A  family  by  the  name  of  Sly,  rendered  famous  by  their  place  in  the 
Induction  of  the  '  Taming  of  the  Shrew,'  resided  at  Stratford,  and  elsewhere 
in  the  county,  in  the  Poet's  time  ;  and  he  no  doubt  drew  the  portrait  of  the 
drunken  tinker  from  the  life.  Stephen  Sly  was  a  labourer  in  the  employ 
of  William  Combe,  13  Jac.  I.  1616.  (Page  330,  Halli well's  "  Stratford 
Records.") 

"In  the  serious  business  of  '  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,'  one  of  Petruchio's 
servants  is  called  '  Curtis  ;'  this  was  a  Stratford  name.  Anne  Curteys, 
widow,  a  knitter,  was  living  there  in  1607 :  and  John  Curteys,  a  carpenter, 
is  found  there  in  1615.  In  Petruchio's  household  twelve  or  thirteen  of  his 
men-servants  are  named,  of  whom  one  only,  the  '  ancient,  trusty,  pleasant 
Grumio,'  belongs  to  Italy,  all  the  rest  are  most  thoroughly  English :  and  as 
Philip,  Nathaniel,  Nicholas,  Joseph,  and  Gabriel,  are  not  uncommon  names, 
we  incline  to  believe  that  Shakespeare  took  them  from  his  contemporaries 
Philip  Henslowe,  Nathaniel  Field,  Nicholas  Tooley,  Joseph  Taylor,  and 
probably  Gabriel  Harvey,  a  poet,  the  friend  of  Spenser. 

"Among  the  characters  in  the  play  of  'Henry  V.'  are  three  soldiers 
whose  Christian  names  are  found  in  the  folio  of  1623,  and,  therefore,  very 
properly  retained  in  this  edition,  although  usually  omitted.  '  John  Bates, 
Alexander  Court,  and  Michael  Williams,'  are  private  soldiers  in  King  Henry's 
army." 

With  this  notice  of  Mr.  King's  views,  the  whole  case  is  with 
the  court. 


INDEX. 


"ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL," 
151 ;  character  of  Helena,  155;  in- 
delicacy of  the  scene  with  Parolles, 
156;  Coleridge,  Elze,  and  Mrs. 
Jameson  on  Helena,  155 — 157  ; 
religious  points,  ib. ;  legal  phrases, 
159. 

Ann  Hathaway,  Shakespeare's  wife, 
24. 

"Antony  and  Cleopatra,"  instances 
of  Shakespeare's  use  of  the  words 
"liberty"  and  "freedom,"  360; 
Cleopatra  and  Cressida,  his  only 
two  completed  female  portraitures, 
361 ;  legal  evidences,  362. 

Arden  (Mary),  Shakespeare's  mother, 
a  Roman  Catholic,  20. 

Aristocracy  and  Churchmen  of 
England  have  an  interest  in  deny- 
ing that  Shakespeare  was  a  Catho- 
lic, 67. 

"As  You  Like  It,"  its  plot,  139; 
Adam,  almost  the  only  character 
in  humble  life  that  escapes  our 
poet's  contempt,  140;  Catholic 
evidences,  142 ;  licentious  impro- 

;riety  of  the  language  of  Beatrice, 
43  ;  law  evidence,  144. 
Author's    motives  for  writing   this 
work,  1. 


B. 


Bacon  (Lord),  his  parliamentary 
career,  14 ;  may  possibly  have 
heard  some  unplayed  MSS.  of 
Shakespeare  read,  15 ;  his  mar- 
riage; his  mercenary  character, 


17;  his  committal  to  the  Tower, 
and  his  death,  ib. 

Bacon's  (Delia)  "  Philosophy  of 
Shakespeare's  Plays  Unfolded,"  1  ; 
republished,  13. 

Baconian  Theory  (The),  first  mooted 
by  Delia  Bacon,  of  Boston,  1 ;  the 
theory  supported  by  Lord  Palmer- 
ston  and  General  Butler,  U.S., 
4 ;  attracts  the  attention  of  the 
English  Aristocracy,  ib. ;  Miss 
Bacon's  Essay  republished  in 
England ;  supported  by  Mr.  W.  H. 
Smith,  by  a  writer  in  Frasers 
Magazine,  and  Professor  Nathaniel 
Holmes  of  Harvard  University, 
Cambridge,  Mass.,  13.  See  Holmes. 

Bagehot  (Walter),  294,  460. 

Blackstone  (Sir  William),  165. 

Brutus  (Marcus),  Shakespeare's  cha- 
racter of  the  Eoman  patriot  in 
"  Julius  Caesar,"  345  ;  Brutus  no . 
sympathiser  with  the  so-called 
common  people,  347 ;  the  move- 
ment simply  an  aristocratic  revolt, 
like  that  of  the  English  Barons 
against  King  John,  and  not  with 
a  view  to  the  liberty  of  the  masses, 
ib. 

Butler,  Gen.,  U.S.,  a  supporter  of  the 
Baconian  Theory,  1,  4,  457. 


C. 


Campbell's,  Lord  Chief  Justice, 
opinion  on  the  legal  acquirements 
of  Shakespeare,  74 ;  first  illustra- 
tion, 76  ;  subsequent  illustrations 
throughout  his  Plays  adduced  by 


466 


Index. 


Lord  Campbell,  94, 102—106,  108, 

*  110,  131,  138,  144,  146,  149,  158, 
168,  170,  180, 197,  257—260,  286, 
312,  330,  344,  362, 393—396  ;  the 
gravediggers'  scene  and  the  Case  of 
"  Hales  v.  Petit,"  409-418;  sig- 
nificant omissions  of  Lord  Camp- 
bell, 395,  419. 

Chalmers,  37,  43,  74, 

Coleridge,  101,  155,  284,  319. 

Collier,  Mr.  Payne,  on  Shakespeare 
being  an  attorney's  clerk,  75,  319. 

Comedies  of  Shakespeare,  general 
review  of,  173 ;  nothing  to  favour 
the  theory  of  his  Protestantism, 
but  rather  his  profound  reverence 
for  the  Roman  Catholic  religion, 
ib. ;  improbability  of  Lord  Bacon 
writing  the  low  comic  scenes  of 
Shakespeare's  Comedies,  172 ;  Lord 
Macaulay  on  Shakespeare  and 
Bacon,  174;  Dr.  Johnson  on 
Shakespeare's  Comedies,  175. 

"Comedy  of  Errors,"  106;  indif- 
ference of  Shakespeare  as  to  the 
origin  of  the  plots  of  his  plays, 
ib.;  Lord  Campbell's  further  evi- 
dences of  Shakespeare's  knowledge 
of  law ;  legal  improbability  of  Lord 
Bacon  being  the  author,  ib.; 
graceful  introduction  of  the  Ab- 
bess, 109. 

Conrad  (Judge),  on  the  Rebellions  of 
Wat  Tyler  and  Jack  Cade,  229— 
239. 

"  Coriolanms,"  supposed  date,  292  ; 
opinions  of  Knight,  Hazlitt,  Ger- 
vinius,  Dowden,  and  Bagehot,  292, 
293;  the  haugbty  patrician  the 
favourite  of  the  author,  294 ;  the 
play  notwithstanding  a  favourite 
with  American  audiences,  294, 
309 ;  copious  extracts  from  the 
play,  295— 310;  Shakespeare's  pic- 
ture of  the  plebeians  in  this  play 
at  variance  with  the  instincts  of 
his  humble  origin,  311 ;  his  legal 
acquirements,  312. 

Cranmer's  christening  speech  in 
"  Henry  VIII.,"  regarded  as  an 
interpolation,  268. 

"  Cymbeline,"  its  probable  date,  331 ; 
its  plot,  332—336;  instances  of 
Shakespeare's  worship  of  rank,  335 ; 
Dr.  Johnson  and  Dr.  Drake  on 
this  play,  337. 


D. 


Davenant,  Sir  William,  and  the  tra- 
dition as  to  Shakespeare  being  his 
father,  30. 

Davies,  Rev.  Richard,  38. 

Davies,. Thomas,  26. 

Dixon  (Hepworth)  does  not  adopt  the 
Baconian  Theory,  14,  17. 

Dowden's  (Prof.)  "Shakespeare's Mind 
and  Art,"  46,  93,  150,  160,  242, 
262,  397. 

Drake  (Dr.),  337. 

Dramatists  of  Shakespeare's  day  as 
Scholars,  16. 


E. 


Early  Life  of  Shakespeare,  1 ;  Shake- 
speare and  the  Bidford  topers,  8 ; 
receives  a  gift  from  Lord  South- 
ampton, 11 ;  his  birth,  18 ;  his 
education,  19 ;  his  deer-stealing 
and  Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  21 ;  his 
learning,  22;  his  marriage  and 
birth  of  his  fi$st  child,  23.  Extracts 
from  his  Plays  possibly  reflecting 
on  his  marriage,  24,  25 ;  his  de- 
parture for  London,  27. 
Elze  (Karl),  117,  156. 
Essex,  Conspiracy  of,  182 ;  allusion 
to  Essex's  return  from  Ireland  in 
"  Henry  V.",  207. 

Euphonic  or  Musical  Test  (The),  423 ; 
Professor  Taverner's  Essay  on  the 
Styles  of  Shakespeare  and  Bacon 
judged  by  the  Laws  of  Elocution- 
ary Analysis  and  "  Melody  of 
Speech,"  424;  Similies  from  Shake- 
speare, 434;  Retrogression,  the 
Law  of  Rhythm,  438;  Diverse 
Musical  Ear  of  Shakespeare  and 
Bacon,  439 ;  a  peculiar  proof  of 
Legal  difference,  440  ;  Mental  dif- 
ference mathematically  demon- 
strated, ib.;  Parallelisms  of  Shake- 
speare andLyly,  441;  Shakespeare's 
superior  Musical  expression,  443  ; 
superior  breadth  of  his  nature, 
453. 

Evening  Mass  —  Did  Shakespeare 
show  ignorance  of  Catholic  rites  by 
his  use  of  this  term  ?  46—50. 

F. 

Fraser's  Magazine,  article  in  sup- 
port of  the  Baconian  Theory,  13. 


Index. 


467 


G. 


Gervinius,  95,  101,  117,  325,  401, 
460 

Grant  White  (Richard),  18,  41,  341. 

Greene  and  Nash,  their  envious  at- 
tacks on  Shakespeare,  39. 

Guizot  (M.)  on  the  play  of  "  Othello," 
363. 

H. 

Hamlet,"  date  of  production,  397  ; 
Opinions  of  Hunter,  Dowden,  and 
Kenny,  397,  398  :  Gervinius,  Elze, 
and  the  German  commentators, 
401 ;  the  Catholic  tone  and  colour 
of  Shakespeare's  mind  prevail 
throughout  this  play,  401—406; 
his  adoration  of  royalty,  407  ;  the 
gravediggers'  scene,  409  ;  the  Case 
of  Hales  v.  Petit,  extract  from 
Judge  Holmes,  410—413  ;  Lord 
Campbell  on  the  report  of  Plow- 
den,  413;  the  "Mermaid"  in 
Bread-street  the  favourite  resort  of 
the  poets  of  that  day,  415  ;  signi- 
ficant suppression  by  Lord  Camp- 
bell of  an  extract  reflecting  on  the 
English  judiciary,  418. 

Halliwell  (Mr.),  18,  35,  84,  464. 

Harness,  Rev.  W.,  8,  21. 

Harsnet's  (Dr.)  book,  "  Discovery  of 
Popish  Impostors,"  and  the  Star- 
key  or  Starchy  case,  381. 

Hazlitt  on  "  Coriolanus,"  292,  460. 

"  Henry  IV.,"  Parti.,  Falstaff intro- 
duced as  a  foil  to  Prince  Henry, 
196;  the  play  a  continuation  of 
political  history,  ib. ;  the  legal 
Points,  197. 

— — Part  II.,  probable  date 

of  its  production,  199  ;  the  treacher- 
ous, shameful  deed  in  the  Fourth 
Act  passed  over  without  censure  by 
the  poet,  204 ;  the  immorality  and 
obscenity  of  some  scenes  conclusive 
against  the  Baconian  Theory,  206. 

"  Henry  V.,"  its  date  proved  by  the 
reference  to  Essex  in  the  Fifth 
Chorus,  207 ;  remarks  of  Hunter, 
Schlegel,  Knight,  Gervinius,  and 
Kenny,  207 — 209;  Shakespeare's 
reverent  mention  of  the  Catho- 
lic religion,  210,  215 ;  extract 
significant  of  the  poet's  want  of 
sympathy  with  the  commonalty, 
119. 


"  Henry  VI.,"  Part  I.,  its  doubtful 
authorship,  220  ;  the  total  absence 
of  any  sympathy  with  the  common 
people  throughout  these  plays,  221 ; 
his  ungenerous  portraiture  of  Joan 
of  Arc,  221. 

•  Part  II.,  Shakespeare's 


want  of  liberalism  exhibited  in  his 
perversion  of  the  history  of  Jack 
Cade,  227,  244—254;  the  cruel 
caricature  of  Cade  by  Shakespeare 
has  prevented  other  poets  from 
doing  justice  to  a  patriot's  memory, 
254. 

Part  III. — Shakespeare 


treats  crime  as  the  privilege  of 
kings  and  nobles,  and  the  inherit- 
ance of  the  poor,  256  ;  the  legal 
acquirements  of  Shakespeare  as 
shown  in  the  Histories  of  the 
Henries,  257. 

"Henry  VIII." — Dispute  as  to  the 
date  of  its  production,  267  ;  Cran- 
mer's  speech  possibly  an  interpo- 
lation, 268;  Buckingham,  Queen 
Katharine,  Wolsey,  and  Cranmer, 
269 — 275  ;  Shakespeare's  portrait 
of  Henry  VIII.  a  painful  perver- 
sity of  genius,  275  ;  his  reverent 
treatment  of  Queen  Katharine, 
276. 

Holmes  (Judge)  supports  the  Baco- 
nian Theory,  13,  17,  67,  195 ;  Case 
of  Hales  v.  Petit  as  stated  by  Judge 
Holmes,  410—413. 

Hunter  (Joseph),  160,  178,  339,  384, 
397. 


I. 


Identity  of  style  in  Shakespeare's 
Epitaph  with  the  lines  on  Timon's 
tomb,  291. 

Importance  of  Shakespeare's  teach- 
ing to  the  Ruling  Classes  in  Great 
Britain,  6,  7. 


J. 


Johnson  (Dr.),  on  "Henry  VIII., 
68 ;  note  on  Bertram,  155 ;  on 
Shakespeare's  Comedies,  175 ;  on 
his  being  touched  for  the  King's 
Evil,  329,  note;  on  "  Cymbeline," 
337  ;  severe  criticism  on  our  poet, 
460. 


468 


Index. 


Jonsoii  (Ben),  on  Shakespeare's  learn- 
ing, 22 ;  testimony  to  Shakespeare, 
31,  460. 

"Julius  Caesar,"  345;  the  character 
of  Brutus  shows  no  exception  to 
Shakespeare's  usual  indifference 
to  true  liberty,  nor  does  it  exhibit 
any  sympathy  with  the  people,  347 ; 
Patricians  and  Plebeians,  348 ; 
Cajsar,  350;  death  of  Caesar,  358. 


K. 


Kenny  (Thomas),  on  "Macbeth," 330; 
on  "  Hamlet,"  396—399. 

"  King  John,"  177 ;  remarks  of 
Hunter  and  Gervinius,  178 ; 
Shakespeare's  laudations  of  the 
great,  179 ;  his  legal  acquire- 
ments, 180. 

"King  Lear,"  probable  date,  377; 
its  accumulated  horrors,  378 ;  some 
of  Shakespeare's  characters  too 
wicked  to  be  human,  380;  Dr. 
Harsnet's  book  and  the  episode  of 
the  Starchy  Family,  381—384; 
Shakespeare's  self-plagiarism,  387 ; 
the  only  instance  of  our  poet  ac- 
cording courage  and  worthy  pur- 
pose to  a  common  man,  392; 
Catholic  evidences,  ib. ;  Shake- 
speare's legal  acquirements,  393 — 
396. 

King's  (Thomas  D.)  "  Bacon  versus 
Shakespeare  :  a  Plea  for  the  Defen- 
dant," 462 ;  on  Warwickshire  say- 
ings and  Stratford  people,  462 — 
464. 

Knight  (Charles),  9,  16;  his  evi- 
dences of  Shakespeare's  Protest- 
antism, 50  ;  on  "  Henry  V.,"  208 ; 
on  "Troilus  and  Cressida,"  284; 
on  "  Coriolanus."  292  ;  on  "  Titus 
Andronicus,"  319. 


L. 


Learning  of  Shakespeare,  22. 

Legal  acquirements  of  Shakespeare, 
71 ;  first  asserted  by  Chalmers, 
Malone,  and  others,  74;  possibly 
may  have  served  in  an  attorney's 
office,  ib. ;  opinion  of  Lord  Camp- 
bell, ib. ;  direct  evidence  of  Lord 
Campbell,  and  his  illustrations 


from  the  Plays,  76 ;  legal  acquire- 
ments of  Shakespeare  as  shown  in 
his  Histories  of  the  Henries,  257 — 
260.  See  Campbell. 

Lofft  (Capel)  on  the  learning  of 
Shakespeare,  22. 

"  Love's  Labour's  Lost,"  one  of  the 
weakest  of  Shakespeare's  produc- 
tions, 147  ;  the  female  characters  of 
the  Beatrice  and  Katharine  stamp, 
148  ;  the  significant  introduction 
of  the  monastery,  149. 

Lucy  (Sir  Thomas)  and  Shakespeare, 
his  severity  to  our  poet,  21,  note. 


M. 

Macaulay  (Lord),  on  Bacon  and 
Shakespeare,  14,  174. 

"  Macbeth,"  date  of  production,  327 ; 
Shakespeare's  flattery  of  King 
James  in  speaking  of  Edward  the 
Confessor's  touching  for  the  King's 
Evil,  329;  Dr.  Johnson  and  the 
King's  Evil,  note  329;  Lord 
Campbell  and  the  legal  acquire- 
ments of  Shakespeare,  330. 

Malone  on  Shakespeare's  learning, 
22 ;  on  his  being  an  attorney's 
clerk,  74. 

"  Measure  for  Measure,"  date  of  pro- 
duction, 95 ;  remarks  on  its  plot, 
96  ;  Lord  Campbell's  instances  of 
Shakespeare's  law,  102 ;  beauty  of 
the  character  of  Isabella,  the  Nun, 
101;  Shakespeare  exalts  the  Romish 
faith  in  the  character  of  Isabella, 
ib. 

"Merchant  of  Venice  (The),"  date 
of  production,  114;  extract  from 
Rowe,  116 ;  German  Commenta- 
tors, 117 ;  Shakespeare's  motive  in 
writing  the  play  was  to  cater  to 
the  common  hatred  of  the  Jews, 
118;  his  money-making  nature, 
119;  analysis  of  the  moral  charac- 
ter of  the  persons  of  the  play,  120 ; 
Shylock's  bond,  126  ;  incident  lead- 
ing to  the  trial;  Portia's  monas- 
tery, 127 ;  the  trial  scene,  128 ;  a 
jumble  of  legal  absurdities  and 
impossibilities,  133 ;  Shakespeare's 
praise  of  kings,  &c.,  134. 

Mermaid  Tavern,  Meetings  of  the 
Wits  and  Poets  at,  73,  415. 

"Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  (The)," 
tradition  that  it  was  written  by 


Index. 


469 


order  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  93; 
Shakespeare  makes  Sir  Hugh 
Evans  a  Protestant  buffoon,  94; 
Shakespeare's  knowledge  of  Law,  ib. 

"  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,"  its 
supposed  date,  110;  legal  and  reli- 
gious allusions,  ib. ;  Shakespeare's 
low  estimation  of  the  mechanical 
and  labouring  classes  illustrated  in 
this  play,  112;  also  his  servility 
to  rank  and  birth,  113. 

More's  (Sir  Thomas)  "History  of 
Richard  III."  quoted,  261. 

"  Much  Ado  About  Nothing,"  sources 
of  its  plot,  136 ;  the  good  Friar, 
ib. ;  Shakespeare's  Roman  Catholic 
priests  and  female  devotees  chosen 
for  the  moral  adjustment  of  his 
plots,  138 ;  knowledge  of  law,  ib. ; 
Dogberry's  learning,  ib. 


0. 


"  Othello,"  date  of  production,  363 ; 
M.  Guizoton  this  play, ib.;  analy- 
sis of  the  play,  364—370 ;  Shake- 
speare's Roman  Catholic  tone, 
371;  his  legal  acquirements,  374 
-376. 


P. 


Palmerston  (Lord),  a  supporter  of 
the  Baconian  Theory,  1,  4,  13, 
226,457. 

"  Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre,"  of  doubt- 
ful authenticity,  322 ;  portions  un- 
doubtedly Shakespeare's,  323  ; 
opinion  of  Gervinius,  325. 

Personal  Characteristics  of  Shake- 
peare,  28;  his  death,  29;  alleged 
to  have  arisen  from  a  merry  meet- 
ing with  Ben  Jonson  and  Drayton, 
ib.' ;  known  as  "  The  gentle  Shake- 
speare," ib.  ;  tradition  of  his  being 
the  father  of  Davenant,  31 ;  Ben 
Jonson,  ib.  ;  Signatures  of  Shake- 
speare decisive  on  the  copying 
theory,  32  ;  his  great  knowledge 
of  stage  business,  33. 

Poor  (The)  and  the  Working  Classes, 
Shakespeare's  want  of  sympathy 
with,  2 ;  his  Aristocratic  tenden- 
cies and  servility  to  rank,  ib. ; 
seldom,  if  ever,  permits  the  humble 
to  escape  him  without  a  jest  or 
sneer,  3. 

31 


Postscript.— Mr.  T.D.King's  "Bacon 
versus  Shakespeare  :  a  Plea  for  the 
Defendant,"  Montreal,  &c.,  462; 
Warwickshire  phrases  in  Shake- 
speare's plays-,  462;  names  of 
Stratford  people  in  his  plays,  464. 

Protestants,  Shakespeare's  contempt 
for,  and  the  Protestant  Faith,  62 ; 
instances  from  his  plays,  63 ; 
Cranmer,  the  only  exception,  ib.  ; 
his  familiarity  with  the  Bible — 
forbidden  to  Catholics — accounted 
for  by  his  father  necessarily  pos- 
sessing one,  69 :  his  bitter  hatred 
of  Jews  another  evidence  of  his 
Romanism,  70. 

Purgatory,  Shakespeare's  belief  in, 
69. 

Q. 

Queen  Elizabeth,  tradition  that 
Shakespeare  wrote  the  "Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor  "  at  her  request, 
93 ;  Shakespeare's  praise  of  grey 
eyes  to  flatter  her,  163. 

R. 

Rebellion  of  Wat  Tyler,  228—232 ; 
Rebellion  of  Cade,  232—239. 

Recapitulation  and  Conclusion,  455 ; 
The  Euphonic  or  Musical  Test, 
ib. ;  the  Religious  test,  156 ;  the 
Legal  attainments  of  Shakespeare, 
ib.  ;  his  misrepresentation  of  His- 
tory; his  servility  to  rank,  and 
contempt  for  mechanics,  459 ; 
severe  censure  of  Dr.  Johnson, 
460 ;  Ben  Jonson,  Bagehot,  Haz- 
litt,  and  Gervinius,  460;  yet  Shake- 
speare's merits  outweigh  his  faults, 
461. 

Religion  of  the  Shakespeare  family, 
34;  Will  of  his  father,  35;  his 
father  generally  believed  by  his 
biographers  to  be  a  Protestant, 
36 ;  discovery  of  John  Shake- 
speare's Confession  of  Faith,  37; 
Chalmers,  38 ;  contested  by  Knight, 
39 ;  assertion  of  Davies  that  Shake- 
speare died  a  papist,  ib.;  Shake- 
speare's being  a  Roman  Catholic 
disputed  by  Mr.  White,  42 ;  John 
Shakespeare's  Confession  of  Faith, 
43—45. 

Religion  of  Shakespeare,  50 — 61 ; 
his  Protestantism  asserted  by  Mr. 


470 


Index. 


Charles  Knight,  50;  quotations 
from  "  King  John  "  and  "  Henry 
VI.,"  Parts  I.  and  II.,  tend  to 
prove  him  to  be  a  Roman  Catholic, 
52—61  ;  his  hatred  of  the  Jews, 
another  indication  of  his  Romanism, 
70  ;  further  illustrations  in  his 
plays,  89,  105,  111,  ]38,  149,  157, 
163,  180,  241,  276,  339,  371,  374 
—376,  392,  401—406. 

Responsibilities  of  genius,  1 ;  Shake- 
speare's great  intellectual  gilts 
were  never  exercised  in  behalf  of 
the  poor,  3. 

"  Richard  II.,"  date  of  production, 
its  popularity,  182  ;  the  conspiracy 
of  the  Earl  of  Essex,  ib.;  not  the  play 
performed  at  Essex  House,  ib.; 
Gervinius  on  the  character  of  the 
King,  184  ;  Shakespeare's  indif- 
ference to  the  sufferings  of  the 
people  contrasted  with  his  sym- 
pathy for  kings  and  nobles,  183 ; 
Catholic  tendencies  in  this  play, 
185 ;  Judge  Holmes  on  Bacon 
being  the  author  of  this  play,  195. 

"  Richard  III.,"  date  of  production, 
260 :  Sir  Thomas  More's  portrait 
of  Richard  III.,  261 ;  the  Catholic 
evidences,  263  ;  English  contempt 
for  poverty,  265. 

"  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  its  early  pub- 
lication, 338;  tradition  of  Juliet's 
house  at  Verona,  339 ;  strong  evi- 
dence in  this  play  of  Shakespeare's 
Roman  Catholic  faith,  339—344  ; 
Evening  Mass,  341  ;  beautiful 
character  of  Friar  Laurence,  343  ; 
Shakespeare's  legal  acquirements, 
344. 

Rowe  (N.),  plot  and  sources  of  "The 
Merchant  of  Venice,"  116. 


S. 


Shakespeare  and  Bacon  morally  com- 
pared, 8—10;  their  respective  re- 
ligious beliefs,  10. 

Shakespeare  and  Bacon,  the  latter  a 
profound  lawyer,  while  our  poet 
violates  all  the  congruities  and 
philosophy  of  law,  457 ;  refutes  the 
Baconian  Theory,  ib. 

Shakespeare's  contumelious  mention 
of  mechanics,  peasants,  &c.,  most 
conspicuous  in  the  Historical 
Plays,  178—277;  and  in  the 


Roman  plays  of  "  Julius  Caesar,' 
and  "  Coriolanus,"  312,  345. 

Shakespeare's  apparent  exception  to 
the  theory  of  invariable  contempt 
for,  or  indifference  to,  the  poor : 
in  Adam,  in  "As  you  Like  It," 
140 ;  in  Flavius,  in  "  Timon  of 
Athens,"  290  ;  and  the  Servant,  in 
"  King  Lear,"  392. 

Shakespeare's  geographical  blunders, 
and  absurdity  of  some  of  his 
plots  decisive  against  the  Baconian 
theory,  92,  164. 

Shakespeare's  ignorance  of  the  Spirit 
and  Philosophy  of  Law  :  see  "  Two 
Gentlemen  of  Verona,"  91  ;  "Mea- 
sure for  Measure,"  102 ;  "  The 
Merchant  of  Venice,"  134;  "The 
Winter's  Tale,"  170. 

Shakespeare's  perverted  presentation 
of  the  character  of  Henry  VIII., 
275. 

Shakespeare's  untrue  and  ungenerous 
presentation  of  the  character  of 
Jack  Cade,  254. 

Smith  (W.  H.),  a  supporter  of  the 
Baconian  Theory,  13 ;  on  the  blun- 
ders in  "Two  Gentlemen  of  Ve- 
rona," 85. 

Smith  (Dr.  W.)  on  Plebeians  and 
Patricians,  347—350. 

"  Sonnets  "  of  Shakespeare,  evidence 
in  them  of  his  vehement  attachment 
to  some  unknown  lady  of  whom  he 
was  jealous,  368. 

Southampton  (Lord),  makes  Shake- 
speare a  present  of  1000Z.,  11 ;  con- 
nected with  Essex's  conspiracy,  12. 


T. 


"  Taming  of  the  Shrew  (The),"  date 
of  its  production,  145  ;  The  Induc- 
tion, ib. ;  Lord  Campbell's  evi- 
dences in  this  play,  146. 

Taverner's  (Prof.  W.)  Essay  on  the 
Respective  Styles  of  Shakespeare 
and  Bacon  judged  by  the  Laws  of 
Elocutionary  Analysis  and  "Me- 
lody of  Speech,"  424—454. 

The  Baconian  Theory,  plays  which 
seem  to  be  decisive  against  it, 
"  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,"  92  ; 
"  Comedy  of  Errors,"  109  ;  "  The 
Winter's  Tale,"  164 ;  and  the  in- 
decency of  the  dialogue  in  the  low 
comic  scenes  throughout  the  plays, 
172,  206. 


Index. 


"  The  Tempest,"  date  of  its  produc- 
tion, 81 ;  extracts  proving  Shake- 
speare's love  of  the  aristocratic 
class,  and  contempt  for  the  lower 
orders,  82  ;  possible  origin  of  this 
feeling,  84. 

"  Timon  of  Athens,"  supposed  date 
of  production,  288  ;  Flavius,  the 
Steward,  the  second  instance  of 
Shakespeare  speaking  of  one  of 
inferior  rank  .  with  respect,  291 ; 
Tim  on 's  epitaph  and  Shakespeare's 
at  Stratford  compared,  292. 

"  Titus  Andronicus,"  its  being  Shake- 
peare's  doubtful;  may  be  deemed 
his  first  play,  313 ;  the  plot  full  of 
the  most  horrible  incidents,  314 — 

318  ;  Gervinius  on  its  authenticity, 

319  ;  a  slight  variation  of  Shake- 
speare's  in   his   speaking   of   the 
people,  322. 

"  Troilus  and  Cressida,"  dispute  as  to 
the  date  of  its  production,  278 ;  the 
Printer's  Preface,  280 ;  the  Baco- 
nians on  this  play,  281 ;  sources  of 
the  plot,  283  ;  opinions  of  Coleridge 
and  Knight,  284;  its  immorality 
makes  it  improbable  that  Bacon 
could  be  its  author,  285 ;  Shake- 
speare's legal  acquirements,  286. 

"  Twelfth  Night ;  or, What  you  Will," 
date  of  production,  160 ;  Hunter 
on  this  play,  ih.;  the  Puritans 
ridiculed  in  Malvolio,  161 ;  extracts 


that  tend  to  show  that  Shake- 
peare's  marriage  was  a  Roman 
Catholic  one,  163  ;  Shakespeare's 
praise  of  grey  eyes  in  flattery  of 
Queen  Elizabeth,  ib. 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,"  one  of 
Shakespeare's  earliest  Plays,  84 ; 
Dr.  Johnson's  opinion  in  favour  of 
its  being  Shakespeare's,  85 ;  its 
contradictions  and  incongruities, 
92. 


V. 


"  Venus  and  Adonis,"  and  "  Lu- 
creece,"  dedicated  to  Lord  South- 
ampton, 11. 

W. 

"Winter's  Tale  (The),"  the  latest 
written  of  Shakespeare's  plays, 
164 ;  its  geographical  blunders,  ib.; 
jealousy  its  theme,  165  ;  Sir  Wil- 
liam Blackstone  on  a  passage  of 
this  play,  165  ;  beauty  of  the  cha- 
racter of  Perdita,  167  ;  Autolycus, 
ib. ;  Shakespeare's  legal  acquire- 
ments, 168. 

Y. 

Youth  of  Shakespeare,  its  irregulari- 
ties, 8,  9,  20,  21. 


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9  Ma) 


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AUT031SL 
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APR   1  y  1994 


LD  21-100m-2,'55 
(B139s22)476 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFOkMrA-  LIBRARY 


